


Get out alive

by PretentiousCoffee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adoption, Brothers dealing with Periods, Cutting, Dealing with Self Harm, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Menstruation, Orphans, Panic Attacks, Realistic Reactions to Self Harm, Runaway, Self-Harm, Self-Mutilation, Torture, Winchester Sister (kinda)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 16:08:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 37,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2276085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PretentiousCoffee/pseuds/PretentiousCoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saved from a vicious attack by the Winchester brothers, a newly orphaned girl grows up in the Winchester clan as a little sister to the boys and a daughter to Bobby. In adulthood she hunts with Sam and Dean struggling to live up to the Winchester name while standing in the shadows of her legendary brothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I attempted to keep all interactions as close to the original characters as I could. This series isn't following any particular season so more characters will probably be added in the coming chapters. I haven't quite been able to find a plot just yet so at the moment its just angsty fluff. 
> 
> Enjoy the mindless read!
> 
>  
> 
> *Panic Attack Trigger Warning.*

As I rest my head on the window of the back seat I begin to get drowsy. Listening to the purr of the Impala’s engine has always put me at ease, despite my circumstances. Although we’re on our way to eliminate a nest of vamps, I still can’t help but feel at peace in the moment. The car has always had that effect on me, even back when I first met the boys.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was 12 years ago that I became an orphan, I was only 10 at the time. A werewolf had forced his way into our house and began his slaughtering. My papa tried to fight the creature from getting to mama and I, but the strength difference was far too great and he was thrown across the room. Stricken by fear, mama rushed to papa’s side after telling me to stay hidden nestled beside the couch and the wall of the room. That very next second, my parents were killed right in front of my eyes. A fury of claws and teeth rained upon them bringing with it a scene of blood and human gore. I could hear the gurgled cries of my parents choking on their own blood attempting to scream for me to run, but it was no use, I was frozen in place drowning in my own tears. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the horrific scene unfolding before my eyes.  
After it had executed my parents, it slowly began to stalk towards my slumped over body. Before he could get close two men came bursting through the door and grazed him with a bullet. Momentarily stunned, the werewolf whipped his head towards the two men and got in a few hits before being put down by a chest and head shot. When the fighting was over, the tall one was the first one to move towards me.

Tucking his gun away behind the waist of his jeans, he slowly approaches me while raising his hands up.

“Hey-hey, calm down, we’re not going to hurt you.” He says as I flinch away from him and further hide in my burrow beside the couch. I tightly squeeze my arms around my legs, burying my head behind my knees willing the nightmare to end.

“My name is Sam Winchester and that’s my brother Dean over there.” Sam says in a calm soothing tone while using a thumb to motion over to his brother.

I gradually raise my head up and peak through my hiding spot as I start to gain confidence about their presences. I see the big one, Sam kneeling down in front of me and the tougher looking one, Dean standing about a foot away from his brother looking down at me with a small smile; both of them have a saddened look to their faces.

“What’s your name?” Sam gently asks.

“Sierra” I whisper in a shaky voice.

“Sierra? Alright, Sierra, everything is going to be okay. You’re safe now.” Sam says as he reaches out his hand toward me encouraging me to grab hold.

I hesitate a moment before tenderly reaching out my hand to his. He helps me up while getting up himself and he leads me past my parents attempting to block my view with his large body. Outside in the driveway sits a big black vehicle with the word ‘Impala’ on it. Just as Sam is getting me situated in the back seat, Dean says something to his brother.

“Sam, a moment please.”

Glancing back at his brother, Sam looks back at me and gives me a reassuring smile before quietly shutting the door. They both stand about a yard away from the car with their backs turned. Although they’re trying to whisper, I can hear every word they’re saying.

“Sam what are you doing?” Dean asks with an exasperated look on his face.

“What do I mean ‘what am I doing?’ We’re going to take that kid with us someplace safe!” Sam shoots back with an incredulous look on his face.

“We should just let the system take care of her! That way she can grow up to have a normal life with a normal family! We don’t need to bring another poor soul, not to mention a child, into this life!” Dean reasons with his brother in a hushed aggravated tone.

“She’s already been introduced to our life, Dean!” Sam whisper shouts. He motions to the car with one arm. “She watched her parents get eaten by a werewolf for God’s sakes! Not to mention, where do you think they’ll take her once she shares what happened to her parents!? Living in an insane asylum isn’t living a ‘normal’ life!” Sam replies with a growl in his voice.

Dean takes a second to fully digest what has been said before letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Fine, but we’re taking her to Bobby’s. See if he can’t help us sort out this mess.” Dean mumbles while rubbing his face.

A few moments later they both get into the car and start to drive with a heavy silence descending upon the car. I sit back and close my eyes and recount the events of the day. It’s amazing how in one moment life can be filled with sunshine and happiness and in the very next moment it could become a living nightmare. I want to cry, I want to scream, I want to feel anything other than the dull ache in my chest but I just sit there dazed and numb listening to the steady hum of the engine. Slowly the dull vibrations of the car comfort and relax my fatigued body and I fall asleep with my head against the window.

I’m suddenly startled awake by the sound of a car door opening right by my head. Sometime during the ride, I managed to fall into a laying position across the back seat of the car.

“Sorry Sierra, I didn’t mean to scare you. We’re here. We want you to come inside and meet someone.” Sam says with a sheepish smile on his face.

I nod and start to get out of the car. As I sit up, I notice that a leather jacket has been draped over my sleeping form. Looking between the two boys, I see that Dean has surrendered his jacket. Guardedly I walk up to him, still feeling a bit nervous about his intimidating presence, and hold out his jacket towards him. Dean looks down at me with one eyebrow slightly raised.

“Thank you.” I murmur only holding his gaze for a second before looking back towards the ground.

Dean takes the jacket out of my hands then slings it over my shoulders. Slightly cocking my head to one side I look up at him quizzically. He smiles while answering my silent question.

“I’ll let you borrow this for now; it’s a bit cold in Bobby’s house.”

“Thanks” I say while clutching the jacket around my small frame appreciating the calming scent that engulfs me.

Walking in front, Dean is the first to enter the foyer of an old looking house surrounded by a junkyard. Sam also enters the house with me following closely behind. A gruff looking man is hugging Dean then turns and hugs Sam before turning back to speak to Dean; not noticing my presence at all. Some words are quickly and quietly exchanged between the two of them. Then the gruff looking man has an angry look on his face at something that has been said, and then he quickly looks towards Sam then down at me.

Immediately, my heart rate picks up and I can feel the blood draining out of my face. Quickly I run behind Sam. Reaching out, I clutch the hem of his jacket and I hide behind him, using him as a shield to protect me from the scary, irate looking man.

Twisting slightly in his jacket, Sam kneels down and starts to stroke the top of my head with one hand and uses the other to pull me closer to his chest.

“Shhh-shh, it’s alright Sierra. You’re safe here, I’m right here with you. Here, let’s go get you something to eat, alright?” Sam coos trying to calm me down with a worried expression on his face.

I nod into his chest as the warmth of his words start to calm me down.

With a fierce glower directed at the older man and Dean, Sam leads me over to a chair in the dining room. He makes me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich as well as a cup of milk.  
“Here you go Sierra; you stay here and eat up. I’ll be right back. I’m just going to have a little chat in the other room, alright? You can call me if you need anything.” Sam says with a tender tone.

I nod again. Sam leaves and joins the men in the other room who are gathered by a desk in the library. I stare down at the sandwich and take a few small bites and take a generous gulp of the milk before I’m satisfied. After a few minutes of looking around the dingy looking room, I decide to join the men in the Library.

As I get closer to the conversation, I hear their harsh whispers.

“You boys can’t just drop something like this on me! You should have let the authorities, the REAL authorities, take care of it! Just ‘cause you guys impersonate police officers it don’t mean you’re actually one!” The bad-temperedly man stated with his mouth hanging open slightly.

“What else were we supposed to do Bobby!? We couldn’t have just left her there, we had to do something!” Sam stated, exasperated.

“That’s exactly what we should have done Sammy! We should have let her stay and be-“

“And be what, Dean?! Be picked up by the state and dropped into the psychiatric ward for being ‘delusional’?! I’m telling you both, she’s already in this life, there’s no turning back. We’re all she has now.” Sam finishes with a solemn look on his face.

“Is that what this is? You feel responsible for her? Sam, her parents’ deaths weren’t your fault. We just need to drop her off--” Dean starts to say before he is interrupted by a loud thud. Three heads are suddenly focused to my position on the floor.

After hearing that I would be dropped off at what I assumed was the asylum, I unintentionally backed up into a shelf which knocked several books off. Curling up onto myself on the floor I start to panic once again. I can feel my heart rate speed up and my breathing came in small gasps. No matter how much I try, I can’t seem to get enough air into my lungs. I can feel my whole body start to tremble while my throat starts to close. Gripped by fear, my mind started to go into hyper drive.

'What’s going to happen to me? Am I going to be left at a hospital? Are they going to leave me? What’ll happen to me if something tries to get me again? Will the boys be able to reach me before anything hurts me? What if the monster comes back and decides to eat me as well?'

My erratic hyperventilating has make me dizzy and it feels as if my mind has detached from my body. Just then I feel two strong hands grip me by the waist and pull me onto his lap. He has lightly wrapped one arm across me with his other arm holding the side of my head to his chest. I look up just long enough to see that it’s Dean who is holding onto me before shutting my eyes tightly. We sit in silence with the only sound piercing the room is my feeble gasps for air.

As I feel the steady beating of Dean’s heart and the slow pulls of air in his lungs, I can feel my body attempt to mimic his. We sit there for what seems like hours before my body decides to cooperate. Slowly but surely my heart rate and breathing return to a normal, more human-like rhythm. Relaxing in the warmth of Dean’s arms, I can feel myself drift off to sleep.


	2. Vamps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still stuck in memory land 12 years ago, see Chapter 1 for reference.

As sunlight hits my eyes, I slowly become aware of my surroundings. I’m laying on a moldy smelling mattress in the corner of the library with a few blankets haphazardly thrown over me. Out of the corner of my eye I see movement on the other side of the room. Like a skittish cat I jump up off the mattress and back a few feet, my instincts putting some distance between me and the unidentified person.

It takes me a second before I realize that the old man from last night is sitting at his desk looking at me with a look of confusion and concern painted on his face. It takes me a moment to recollect my scattered wits back together.

“So kid, what’s your name?” The old man asks.

Glaring at him slightly, still feeling bitter for being scared so early in the morning, I retort, “You know, it’s not polite to ask someone’s name before giving your own.”

“Bobby. Your turn.” He states deadpanned.

I can feel my body tense. All my newfound courage drains quickly after the realization hits that if he gets mad I would be at the losing end of the spectrum.

“My name’s Sierra…” I say in a docile tone more to the floor than to Bobby’s face.

“Why are you two having a conversation from across the room?” Sam asks walking into the room with Dean closely behind.

“Jumpy over there and I were just getting to know each other seeing as introductions were skipped last night.” Bobby says to the boys while looking through the stack of open books on his desk.

As last night’s memories come back to me, I could feel my face flush. Even after all they’ve done for me I have just continued to cause more trouble for them. I could feel my consciousness start to drift into the darker recesses of my mind before I was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. My eyes shot up towards the two brothers.

“Sierra, do you have any relatives you can stay with?” Sam asks me.

I shake my head. “No, both my parents didn’t have any brothers or sisters and my grandparents aren’t here anymore.” I said, curious as to why I was being asked.

“Well, we discussed things last night and we decided that you should be the one to decide what you want to do. We came up with two options. Option one would be for us to drop you off in a nice children’s home so you can grow up with a relatively normal life.”

I paled a bit, I didn’t want to be separated from them. I know that the reality of this world is that there really are scary things lurking in the dark just waiting to feast on human flesh and they would be my only protection.

“Option two,” Sam continued, “would be for you to live here with Bobby. He would train you to do what we do, tracking and hunting monsters. It’s not a safe life or an easy one but considering your circumstances…”

“I’ll do it.” I said. I knew that hunting monsters would be scary and dangerous but I couldn’t bear the thought of someone else going through the same thing that I had. I would make a difference in the world.

 

The first few weeks were rough, going from ordinary school girl to a hunter in training was an insane transition to say the least but eventually I was able to make a place for myself in this new life. After a while Bobby unofficially adopted me as a daughter and the boys became my unofficial brothers. They became my surrogate family in a world where I had no one. I learned all the basics on how to hunt monsters from three of the best. By the age of 16 I successfully learned how to find, track, and kill monsters, however it wasn’t until I turned 18 that I was actually ‘allowed’ to hunt with the boys. Since then I’ve been on the road with them, hunting anything and everything that we’ve come across.

 

……………………….  
Present

 

I’m jolted awake by the sound of someone slapping their hand on the metal of the car.

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty, time to put your game face on!” Dean says with an impish grin.

‘We’re eliminating a nest of vamps, right.’ I think to myself.

I roll my eyes at him and get out of the car being temporally blinded by the afternoon sun. I head to the trunk where Sam is already sorting through and passing out different weapons we’ll need to complete our hunt.

If I had to define my place in this odd little trio, I would definitely define myself as the token girl. Dean excelled at the physical aspect of the job whereas Sam’s strong point was the research. I, however, don’t contribute as much as those two power houses. Sometimes I question the reason of why they keep me around, in comparison to the two of them I’m merely a novice who sometimes does more harm than good.

Armed with our machetes and some syringes filled with dead man’s blood, we start to head into the abandoned warehouse. Dean is at the front with Sam beside him at his 8 o’clock and me behind both of them. Quietly sneaking into the front door of the warehouse, we advance to the middle of the room attempting to locate their sleeping quarters.

One of the vampires apparently heard us come in and tried to get the jump on Dean, but Sam had seen him and swiftly beheaded the creature in one efficient swing. Awoken by the death of their companion, the remaining five vampires decided to come out and play. All at once we sprung into action, forming a loose circle in the middle of the room, the three of us stand back to back effectively covering each other while freeing our hands to take care of the overgrown parasites. One of the five was foolish enough to lunge towards Dean in our makeshift battle formation and was promptly beheaded.

While distracted by the one sided fight near Dean, one of the muscular male vampires, presumably their leader, comes up and shoves me across the warehouse floor separating me from the boys.

As I slid into a smaller section of the warehouse my head abruptly comes to a stop with a loud bang up against one of the metal support beams. I reach up to my scalp and bring my hand back down only to see it covered in blood. ‘Lovely,’ I thought to myself ‘Of course I’d be the one to get a head wound in the midst of a vampire nest.’

With a twisted grin, the vampire slowly starts to creep towards me, enjoying the aroma of my blood that’s freely flowing from the back of my head. “Why, you smell just as lovely as you look my dear! I do think you’ll be a fine specimen to add to our little collection.” He says motioning to the back corner of the room.

Following his gesture, I’m shocked at to what I see. There are eight girls tied to metal chairs arranged in a straight line. The girls all have IVs stuck in both their carotid artery and their femoral artery draining their blood into a large container shared between the eight of them.

“What are you doing to them you sick bastard?!” I scream at him.

“Well, my companions and I are what you might call connoisseurs of gourmet bloods. We became tired of the same monotonous taste day after day. We craved something new and EXCITING to spice our meals with. This, my dear girl, is revolutionary! You see, we drain the bloods of multiple people with unique blood types before transfusing back into the body just before consumption. And you would be a lovely addition to this group, the pièce de résistance if you will.” He finishes with a malicious smile.

Looking at the girls in horror I notice that one of the faces look familiar. ‘Why does she look so familiar? Where have I seen her before?’ I ask myself. Putting the matter aside, I focus at the task at hand: Killing this sick twisted monster. Coming up with a quick strategy, I mentally prepare myself for the idiotic plan I’m about to enact.

“You want my blood so badly? Come and get it, you dick.” I spit out with a snarl. I place my hand at the back of my head and fling some of the blood at the vampire’s face while simultaneously reaching behind my back and grabbing one of the syringes of dead man’s blood in preparation for his strike.

Put into a frenzy by the blood splattered across his face, the brawny vampire immediately lunges forward towards my neck pinning me to the ground. I reach over and grab my machete, shoving it between the two of us creating a mock shield just long enough to keep myself from being bitten. My free arm swings the syringe straight into his neck and I inject the monster with the poisonous substance. I watch as his eyes gradually go blank before he collapses on top of me.

Shoving him off of me, I promptly grab his hair with one hand and separate his head from the rest of his body with the machete. I toss his head away in disgust. My body is still pumping with adrenaline as I run over to the girls tied to the chairs. One by one I check for a pulse, hoping, praying, that they’re still alive. One by one I’m let down as every one of the girls is already dead.

“Shit.” I mutter to myself.

I look over to the last girl in the line, still not able to shake the feeling that I’ve spoken with her at one point. I take a moment to try to remember. Then, it hits me. She was the one of the previous victims’ sister.

We had interviewed her on the second day that we came to town. We spoke to her under the ruse as FBI when she told us she saw who had taken her sister. I remember how afraid she looked; she was terrified that whatever came after her sister would come after her next since she had seen her sister’s abductor.

I sunk to the floor in front of her lifeless body staring into my hands. ‘We told her she’d be safe, WE were supposed to keep her safe. I was supposed to keep her alive!‘ I thought to myself. ‘It’s my fault she’s dead right now. It’s my fault.’

Pulling myself together, I ease back up to my feet stumbling a bit and start walking back to the main room attempting not to fall on my face. My head is throbbing and I’m starting to feel the room spin. Half way I see both Sam and Dean jogging towards me.

“Sierra, you alright? Are you hurt?” Dean asks voice laced with concern eyeing my bloody hair.

“I’ll survive.” I reply devoid of emotion.

Sam looks towards the back of the room where the girls are lined up.

“Are they all…?” Sam asks gravely.

“Yeah, we were too late.” I respond starting to feel nauseous either from the guilt or the head injury, I wasn’t sure which.

“What the hell were they doing to them?” Dean asks with a mix of confusion and anger when he notices the tubing attached to the girls.

“They… they were mixing the girls’ blood. They were going to inject the mixed blood back into the body before feeding.” I respond, my cracking voice betraying my calm façade.

They both looked at me with a mixture of disgust and rage on their faces from what I was telling them. I couldn’t handle it any longer, all the guilt from letting those girls die mixed with the vertigo and nausea caused by my head injury got to me. I fell to my hands and knees and proceeded to vomit.

In an instant Dean was kneeling on my right holding my hair back and Sam on my left rubbing my back in a soothing manner. Feeling completely devoid of all my stomach contents, I sit back onto my heels and take a few cleansing breaths before sighing.

“And, apparently, I have a concussion.” I rasp answering their questioning gazes.

With which we all start back to the impala.


	3. Vices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, I found a little plot! Hooray!
> 
> Trigger Warning: Self Mutilation

Although the drive back to the motel was only 20 minutes long, it felt like hours. The unrelenting thoughts kept pulsing in rhythm to the pounding in my head. ‘It’s all your fault, YOU were supposed to keep her safe. She TRUSTED that you would keep her safe. YOU failed her. She’s dead because of you. Another life lost due to your inadequacy. ’

I curl my legs towards my body and lean my head against the window of the backseat closing my eyes tightly, wishing for some kind of relief from my incessant thoughts. They need to go away, I need relief. This was one of the times I wished Dean would play music after a hunt.

Before a hunt and on our way to jobs, Dean typically blasts his music without a single care in the world; much to my and Sam’s dismay. After every hunt, however, a dead silence falls upon the car as Dean always ensures the radio stays off. Although I’ve never had the nerve to ask his reasoning behind the act, I’ve always assumed it was in respect to the victims lost to the monster we just hunted.

True to tradition, this ride home was filled with silence, so I was left alone with my vile thoughts to keep me company.

 

Pulling up at our temporary motel ‘home’, we all file out of the car and head in our tiny room. We started our customary ritual of cataloging our injuries and cleaning up as we always did after hunting. And, as usual, I was the only one with an injury that needed attention.

Dean is the first to get into the shower, leaving Sam to deal with the doctoring. Sam grabs the first aid kit and I grab our medicine bag. I know I should feel a bit apprehensive at how normal this little ritual feels, but I also know that it’s unfair comparing any aspect of our warped reality to the ‘normal’ standard. 

“C’mere, let me look at your head.” Sam calls out to me while sitting on the bed patting the floor by his feet.

Obediently, I sit on the floor with my back resting against the side of the bed and my legs curled up against my chest. Sam starts to part my knotted, bloody hair to get a better view of the wound. When he sees it, he sharply inhales a breath and lets it go with a whistling sound.

“That bad huh?” I ask him, tilting my head up to make eye contact.

“Yeah, I think I’m going to have to stitch it up.” He says regretfully, meeting my gaze with sympathy.

Sighing softly, I rest my head against Sam’s knee and stretch out my legs in front of me, attempting to get comfortable for the pain I’m about to endure. He starts getting to work stitching my scalp back together, but I begin to absentmindedly rub my upper thigh getting buried under the weight of my own thoughts. ‘I deserve this pain. I let her down. I let down all those other girls. I had one job but as usual I failed. I let her die. I let them all die. They had so much of their lives to live but I cut them short. It’s my fault they died, I should have protected them. I had one job, but still I failed.’ I couldn’t stop the thoughts that were bombarding my conscience, reminding me of my mistakes.

“Hey, how are you doing down there?” Sam suddenly asks, interrupting my internal reprimanding.

“Other than the fact you’ve been repeatedly poking me in the scalp with a needle? Just dandy!” I reply with a faux cheery tone.

“Yeah, yeah, smartass.” Sam replies with a warm chuckle in his voice.

A few moments pass before he speaks again with a more somber tone. “But really, are you alright? Seeing those girls would be hard for anyone.”

“I will be. It just gets a bit hard not being able to save everyone, you know?” I reply focusing on the grimy fraying carpet.

‘Or anyone really.’ My thoughts bite back.

 

I’ve never liked speaking about my feelings, it’s a subject that’s never come easy to me. I suppose I could blame it on growing up with three men who would rather drink and repress emotions than to deal with them in a healthy manner, however that’s not quite right. I’ve always been quite tight lipped about how I feel, only giving enough information to satisfy curiosity, a handy skill I’ve learned to master over the years. Apparently watching your parents die in cold blood will wreak havoc on your emotional health, who knew.

 

“Alright, all done.” Sam says while lightly patting the top of my head signifying for me to get up.

 

Dean steps out of the bathroom looking refreshed and Sam replaces him in the bathroom taking a quick shower as well. Trifling through the medicine bag, I find a bottle of Tylenol and pop two pills before laying face up on the bed with my legs dangling over the edge and my arm draped over my face.

 

I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel a cold bottle pressed against the exposed part of my forehead. I remove my arm from my face and sit up to glare at Dean but he tosses me an icepack before I can. I gratefully accept it and lay back down to my previous position with the added icepack against my aching head.

 

“How you feeling kid?” Dean asks after sitting down at the little dining table over by the door.

 

“Like I have a concussion.” I sigh exhausted.

 

Dean opens his mouth, presumably to ask about what happened today at the warehouse, but thankfully he stops himself with a soft sigh. That is one of the qualities I like about Dean, he always knows the right moment of when to press for information and when to drop it.

 

“When Sam gets out of the shower, we’re going to pick up dinner. Need anything while we’re in town?” Dean asks.

 

“Some M&Ms please.” I say in the sweetest tone I can muster.

 

“Really?” He looks over at me with one eyebrow raised and a sardonic look on his face.

 

“But…” I grab the back of my head and look up at him with a pitiful face. “I hurt.” I finish with a slight lip quiver being overly dramatic.

 

He rolls his eyes at me with a huff. “Fine.”

 

Sam got out of the bathroom just as Dean started mumbling something about me being ridiculous. I gave them both a little wave as they left for town.

 

Finally it was my turn for a shower. I quickly gather my shower bag and fresh clothes before taking over the bathroom. I strip down and situate myself under the warm steady stream of water. I slowly run my fingers through my wet hair attempting to get the dried blood out of my matted hair without ripping out any stitching. As the water starts to run red, memories of the warehouse bombard my head.

 

I need a release. I need these thoughts to go away. Looking down at my upper thigh I can see it, my scars. Horizontal scars litter the top of my thigh, each mark a visible tally of my weakest moments in life.

 

‘I just need some release… Just a little bit. Just one stroke; one little release to ebb the pain.’ I reason with myself.

 

I grab my conditioner bottle and peel away the front sticker. Stuck on the back of the sticker is my scalpel blade I obtained on one particular job at a hospital. I peel off the blade and slowly make one deep line across my thigh. Just like that I can feel some pressure release from my chest. The blood starts to collect in little beads before it becomes a small stream running down the length of my leg. Captivated by the relief washing over my system I make a parallel line and watch the additional blood gather and combined with the previous blood stream before flowing towards the drain. Finally, I can breathe again.

 

Basking in my euphoric high, I finish showering before getting out and tending to my new wounds. My trusty old shower bag not only holds my toiletries, but several bandages for weak moments such as this. Grabbing a few, I place them on my leg to stop the bleeding and to keep my little habit a secret from the boys.

 

I return to the main room and lay on the bed getting lost in my thoughts. I can’t remember when I first started using a blade to deal with life; it was just something that eventually became a habit. The reason I continue this nasty habit, however, is for the momentary relief I am able to achieve from my thoughts and memories. I realize it’s an addiction. I know it’s only a temporary solution. But the undeniable relief always keeps me coming back for more.

 

Soon after both Sam and Dean come back and divvy up to food, and more importantly my M&Ms, before settling down to eat. While we were all together, we began to plan our next destination.

“Since we’re close, we should visit Bobby. Maybe he’ll have a job for us.” Dean says looking over at me gauging my reaction.

 

It took me a second to process what he said before I can feel my face light up. It had been a while since we were there; we’ve been on the road for close to two months and I was starting to get homesick.

 

I clear my throat trying for a nonchalant tone. “Well I suppose that would be the logical thing to do…” I hold my straight face only for a few seconds before smiling, knowing I didn’t fool them for a second.

 

They both start laughing at my sad attempt at hiding my excitement.

 

“Nice try.” Sam says with a smile while rolling his eyes.

 

With our next destination chosen, we all got ready for bed. As the youngest and smallest of the three of us I typically get the short end of the stick sleeping wise. Standing at 5’7” and 130 pounds, I’m not small per say, but in comparison to the two giants, I look tiny. I typically claim the couch in rooms that have one, but in the situations such as this where there are only two beds, I have to choose whose bed to share.

 

I prefer sleeping on the couch because choosing between the two is a nightmare. Dean is smaller so there is physically more room for me on the bed, but throughout the night he twists and turns constantly waking me up. Sam on the other hand stays pretty still during the night but his large frame takes up most of the bed and he tends to mumble in his sleep. It’s a no-win situation, really.

 

In the end I decided to sleep next to Dean. I figured that his nudges waking me up probably wouldn’t be a bad thing, considering sleeping with a concussion is typically frowned upon.

 

First thing in the morning we packed up all our things and hopped in the car to go to Bobby’s house. Although we were fairly close, Bobby’s was still half a day’s drive from the motel.

 

Just over four hours into the trip and we had all fallen into our characteristic patterns for when we road trip. Dean was playing his Metallica in the background, Sam was taking a nap up front, and I was catching up on some of my reading in the back seat. Until, without warning, Castiel appears beside me in the back seat.

 

I let out a frightened squeak, which in turn causes Dean to jerk the wheel and wake Sam up.

 

“We need to talk.” Castiel says in his gruff monotonous tone.

 

“Seriously man, give us a warning or something!” Dean fumes.

 

Dean drives onto a little dirt road which eventually leads us to a quiet picnic ground out of the way of the highway. We all get out and stretch our legs curious as to what the angel has to say.

 

“So, what’s up?” Sam asks with a slightly puzzled look on his face.

 

“Well, it’s about Sierra…” Castiel says hesitantly, looking at me.

 

Completely confused I look at Castiel before looking at both Sam and Dean whose facial expressions match mine.

 

“What about her?” Dean asks impatiently with an expression somewhere between perplexed and irritated.

“It seems that heaven is keeping an eye on her. She is in possession of a rare body as it can accommodate any angelic body. Essentially making her a very important solider for heaven.”

Cas hesitates a bit before continuing.

“Recently, it seems that they have become… Concerned regarding her recent self-destructive behaviors. They have sent me down to warn you two. If the vessel cannot be protected, we will be forced to intervene.”

 

We all stood dumbfounded for a few seconds staring at Castiel blankly.

 

So many questions were running through my head. ‘Why was I chosen to be a vessel? How much did they know about my ‘self-destructive behaviors’? What did they mean about intervening?’

 

Thankfully both Sam and Dean were only focused on the vessel part of the statement.

 

“What do you mean she’s a vessel?” Both boys ask almost in unison, with the same voice of irritation and confusion.

 

“I have told you all the information I know at the moment. I will be in contact if I have further news.” And with that, Cas was gone.

 

Unfortunately his sudden departure had left the pair of brothers annoyed, much to my delight. We all got back into the car still reeling from the events that just took place. We got back on the highway and drove for a few moments before Dean broke the silence.

 

“What the hell was he talking about when he said ‘self-destructive behavior’?” He says making eye contact with me through the rearview mirror.

 

‘Shit. I need an excuse, NOW.’ Was the only thought that came to my head. I could feel my heart pumping overtime in preparation for flight. My world was on the verge of crashing down around me.

 

I took too long to answer because now Sam was curious. He placed his arm at the back of his seat and twisted to look at me in the backseat.

 

“Sierra?” Sam asks in a voice that demands an answer.

 

I could feel my mouth go completely dry, it felt like I had swallowed a mouth full of cotton. Hoping for the best, I opened my mouth and prayed that an acceptable answer would fall out.

 

“When fighting the vamp, I used my own blood to egg him on. They might have classified that as being a bit self-destructive.” I state my voice trailing off a bit at the end.

 

‘That’ll work.’ I praised myself internally.

 

Stunned into silence, they both looked at me with a dumbfounded look on their faces.

 

“What were you thinking? Do you know how reckless that was!?” Sam yells before he slams his back into his seat with frustration.

 

“You could have been killed! Or worse, you could have been turned! Did you think of that?!” Dean says radiating anger.

 

“Yes, I know it was a stupid move, but I’m fine. Nothing bad happened. Not to mention, you both are missing the bigger picture. If the angels are watching me, chances are high that the demons are as well.” I say attempting to cease their lectures.

 

“The hell is up with this family and vessels?” Dean asks under his breath in an exasperated sigh.

 

The rest of the ride was filled with silence, each of us left in our own heads to sort through the events of the day.


	4. Taken

We arrived at Bobby’s house at around midnight the same day after driving an ungodly amount of time. We were all exhausted by the time the car was parked, both physically and emotionally. However, as soon as Bobby came out to greet us, I found a renewed source of energy. I jump out of the car and bounded towards him, launching myself into his arms and squeezing like a drowning man to a life vest. “I missed you Bobby.” I mutter into his chest holding my tears at bay.

“I’ve missed you too kid.” Bobby says gripping me tightly with one hand and smoothing the top of my head with the other.

After releasing him from my vice like grip, I step back to see both Sam and Dean watching with an amused look on their faces. Bobby went to greet them both with hugs as well before heading back inside.  
Sam was passing out the bottles of beer while Dean was debriefing Bobby on recent events and the situation with Castiel.

“A vessel huh…?” Bobby states, processing what was being said.

“Yeah, and that’s not even the good part. Apparently, Sierra has been reckless enough that the angels have threatened to take her away for ‘protection’.” Dean finishes while staring angrily at me.

“You could have left that part out.” I say defiantly staring back at Dean.

“Kid, don’t make me regret lettin you go out to hunt.” Bobby says eyeing me with a look of anger and slight concern.

All of a sudden I feel like a child again. It never ceases to amaze me how much of an effect one of Bobby’s looks has on people, one of his looks can even bring Sam or Dean to their knees. Shifting uncomfortably under the various stares, I attempt to change the topic of conversation.

“So, we didn’t come here just to gossip about angels, we were wondering if you had any jobs for us?” I ask hoping they’ll let the topic drop.

“Actually, I got wind of something munching on the locals a few towns over. As far as I can tell, it’s a Rugaru. Y’all up for it?” Bobby asks.

“Sounds good, as long as we can go in the morning. I’m exhausted.” I say attempting and failing to stifle a yawn.

We separated into our own designated rooms for the night. After sharing a single room with both Sam and Dean, having my own room for the night is an appreciated change of pace. The little things that normal people take advantage of, such as privacy and a bed to myself, are rare commodities in my life. I stretch out on my little mattress taking up as much room as I possibly can in a passive-aggressive protest to the nights I spent curled up on the motel beds.

Just as I’m about to fall asleep, I’m startled awake by a knock on the door. I groggily sit up with my back against the headboard and tell the intruder to come in. It takes me a few blinks to get my vision clear enough to realize its Bobby. He comes in and sits at the edge of my bed with an expression that told me that we were about to have a conversation I probably wasn’t going to like.

“So, you gonna tell me what’s going on or do I gotta to drag it out of you?” Bobby says skipping all the formalities normal people’s conversations typically start with.

I let out a sigh. “I’m fine. Honestly, you guys are making a big deal out of nothing.”

“Heaven don’t think so.”

I roll my eyes. “The angels are just paranoid that their precious pawn is going to get damaged.”

Bobby takes a second to scrutinize what I’ve said before speaking again. “You may be fooling the boys but I know something’s going on with you.”

“Bobby, really, I’m fine. I mean, yes I underestimated how stressful this job can get but I’m dealing. I’m alright.”

Bobby looks at me with skepticism in his eyes for a second before he lets the subject drop with a heavy sigh. “Just know, I’m always here for you, kid. Now, go to sleep.”

“That’s what I was trying to do before someone tried to beat the door down.” I mumble with a slight grin on my face.

Bobby mumbles “Idjit” loud enough for me to hear before shutting the door and leaving me to get some sleep.

 

Morning came far too quickly but I woke up feeling more refreshed and relaxed than I have in a long time. After a healthy breakfast of doughnuts and coffee, we all said our goodbyes and hopped a few towns over to begin our quick hunt. Both Dean and Sam left to do the leg work by interviewing people and such and I was left at the hotel room to do research on its hunting patterns. Based on the locations of the bodies found, I was able to find an approximate location on the Rugaru’s hideout.

The hunt was a fairly easy one as we were able to finish the job in less than two days. Not our fastest time to complete a job, however still in the top 10. We used the local cop's ‘investigation’ information along with the hideout location I found to effectively trap and roast the damned thing with minimal injuries. Although it was a very short hunt, it was a relief for all of us to just focus on the job and forget about all the issues at hand. Unfortunately, life made sure that we wouldn’t forget for too long.

With our reason for staying in town effectively eliminated, Sam and I decide to make a supply run to stock up on a few goods while leaving Dean to finish packing. Our errands don’t take too much time as we are back within the car driving to the motel in an hour.

“Hey Sam, mind if I ask you a question?” I ask breaking the silence.

“Sure, shoot.” Sam says with a generally curious tone.

It takes me a moment to work up the nerve to ask. “When you guys picked me up, why did you fight so hard for me to stay? Wouldn’t it have been easier to drop me off somewhere?”

Sam seems genuinely shocked at my question. “Why? Are you having regrets about staying?”

“No, not really, I’m just curious.”

“What does ‘not really’ mean?”

“Don’t deflect, just answer the question.”

He sighs and takes a few seconds to think before he begins. “Well, I guess I wanted you to grow up knowing about how things really were in the world. I didn’t want you to be hidden from the truth when you had seen it firsthand. I also knew that if you were going to grow up in this life, Bobby would be the best person to teach you.”

Confused by his answer I ask, “But I thought you hated the fact that you grew up as a hunter?”

“Well, yeah but that was different. You see, dad, he became obsessed with revenge so being a father wasn’t a priority in his mind. His obsession with finding yellow eyes became his life’s mission; it clouded his sanity. We were forced into hunting without a say in the matter, so I suppose I resented him because of it. That’s why I wanted to give you a choice verses forcing this life on you.” Sam looks like he’s about to say more but by this time we are already pulling up at the motel.

Sam parks and cuts the engine.

“Well, thanks. Thanks for giving me a choice and thanks for fighting so hard for me.” I say as I feel my cheeks start to heat up.

Sam flashes me a bashful smile before getting out. We head inside and are pleasantly surprised to see that all of our gear is packed and ready to go.

“Good you guys are back, I’m starving.” Dean says as he’s passing us with our bags in tow. He puts our stuff in the trunk and hops in the driver’s seat and stares at us expectantly.

Sam and I both roll our eyes before following suit. We check out of the motel and begin to debate on where to get food. Sam wanted to go to a healthy restaurant, Dean wanted to stop at a fast food place, and I just wanted to find a place to eat before I withered away. After arguing in the car for a solid 10 minutes, we finally decide to stop at an old country sit-down restaurant before driving back to Bobby’s.

There was some initial grumbling from both Sam and Dean, but it promptly died down after we got our food. We chatted intermittently between bites, reminiscing on our best and worst hunts. I finished about half of my meal before all the free refills affected my bladder. I got up from the table just to be met with two concerned gazes. Sam, as per usual, was the first to voice his concern.

“You feeling okay?”

“Hey, don’t puke up your meal, I spent good money on it!” Dean says with a worry in his voice. Although, I’m not sure if that worry was meant for me or the money he had spent on dinner.

“Stand down guys, I just have to relieve my bladder.” I say with a sarcastic tone, to which I received huffs from both boys.

As I was washing my hands, I was interrupted by sobbing sounds coming from one of the back stalls. ‘Weird,’ I thought, ‘I don’t remember anyone coming in after me.’ Curiosity got the best of me and I went to check it out.

“Ma’am, you alright?” I walk slowly towards the stall and slightly push on the door. I’m surprised to see that the door opens and even more so when I realize no one is there. Sitting on the floor of the stall is a tape recorder with a pre-recorded loop of crying noises. My instincts immediately told me that I was in a very, very bad situation. I whip my body around to exit the stall, but I was startled to see a woman standing in front of me with a sneer on her face. Before I could react, she stabs me in the neck by a needle, Dexter style. I don’t even remember hitting the floor, I simply blacked out.


	5. Captive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been one of my favorite to write, however there are a lot of potential triggers. Also, I regularly write chapters, it just takes me a while to edit and polish them. Don't worry, I'll finish with a proper ending (eventually).
> 
> *Trigger Warnings*  
> Torture  
> Blood  
> Scars

I begin to awaken from my artificial slumber feeling like my brain is filled with cotton balls. Some of my past training kicks into gear and I am careful to still appear asleep. I mentally begin to check myself out hoping to get a further grasp on my situation. After a few moments I am able to deduce that I haven’t been given any injuries, other than the needle site in my neck. I proceed to check for mobility by slightly moving my body, only to find that I have a leather band wrapped around: my legs, my hips, my chest, my arms, and my forehead effectively eliminating all movement. My position is weird though, I’m strapped down with both arms sticking out and legs together, almost like a cross. Suddenly, a chill hits me, making me painfully aware that I am also devoid of all clothing. I mentally sigh at the predicament I have found myself in. ‘Why do these situations always happen to me?’

 

I startle slightly when I hear what sounds to be someone getting out from a chair from across the room.

The steps get closer before the mystery person begins to speak. “Oh darling, when are you going to stop pretending you’re asleep? It’s dreadfully boring to watch.”

My heart sank. That all too familiar voice struck fear into the pit of my stomach, I know exactly who took me.

“Crowley.”

“Hello sweetheart.”

Giving up on the rouse of being asleep, I open my eyes to further inspect my surroundings. I’m in what appears to be a re-purposed warehouse with sigils painted sporadically throughout the room. Placed neatly in a row are dingy looking metal tray tables with pristine white cloths covering the contents beneath them. ‘Well, THOSE look ominous…’ I think to myself.

I turn my attention back to Crowley before I start to freak out at my inevitable future.

“What do you want from me?” I practically growl.

Crowley begins to slowly circle the table I’m laying on. “Oh naïve little Sierra. You don’t think I’m up on all the juicy little rumors traveling through the grape vine? I know you’re a ‘one size fits all’ vessel for the angels.”

“So? Kidnapping me won’t help you, it’s not like I can hear the angels talking or anything. I’m of no use to you.”

“Tsk, tsk, poor little rabbit, always selling yourself short. Not only do I have in my possession one of heaven’s weapons, I also have the precious little sister of those two overgrown buffoons; the baby of the Winchester family. If that’s not a winning combination, I don’t know what is.”

Much to my dismay, Crowley stopped circling when he noticed the cuts on my thigh.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Crowley asks with a sick sense of interest, a smile tugging at his lips.

I could feel my stomach drop and my breath quicken. Not only did the King of the Crossroads now know my unhealthy coping mechanism, but I knew he would also be sure to share this fact with Sam and Dean just to screw with us.

I never intended to keep my self-harm a secret from the boys or from Bobby. I had thought about telling them several times but the timing was never right. Anytime I was about to tell them, something major would happen and I would miss my opportunity. I couldn’t add more trouble to their plates just because of my own fucked up mind, so I made sure to keep a smile on my face not giving any indications of my troubles. I didn’t have the heart to burden them with any of the shit in my life.

Suddenly, Crowley took his hand and gently ran his finger across the multitude of raised scars jarring me from my internal thoughts. I attempt to wrench my body from his touch however the limited mobility in my restraints ensures I don’t get far.

Feeling my frustration and anger bubble beneath the surface, I release it all in one phrase. “Don’t TOUCH me!” I screamed with as much malice as I possibly could, giving him a face that promised death.

He slowly removes his hand with a sadistic grin on his face. “My my, testy today are we? Tell me something little one, do your dear older brothers know about your little hobby?”

Seething, I grit my teeth. I can’t come up with any words to say, so I merely looked away while cursing his existence internally.

A wide smile emerged on Crowley’s face and he released a low chuckle “Didn’t think so. Well, let’s cut to the chase shall we? As you can see…” Crowley walks over to the metal tables and starts to remove the cloth covers only to reveal various knives neatly lined up in rows. “…We have a wide variety of tools to work with in order to right all the wrongs you and your faux brothers have done unto me.”

He walks over to one of the tables and grabs the knife first in the line and begins to inspect it while walking back.

All rational thought has left my brain. The only thing I am focused on is the impending torture I’m about to be subjected to for God knows how long. I can feel my whole body quivering and break out in a cold sweat while bile is slowly climbing up my throat. My heart is beating impossibly fast, slamming against my ribcage with each thud.

Crowley reaches me and takes one of his hands and softly strokes the top of my forehead and whispers in my ear.

“This may hurt a bit.”

For the next hour Crowley proceeded to drag the blade time and time again over my skin, up and down my arms, along my stomach, and along each leg. Each stroke was just as painful as the last, coaxing out a fresh scream from my raw throat. I was covered neck to toe in my own blood and it was soon dripping down the table and onto the floor. The air became so thick with the smell of blood; I could almost taste it in my mouth.

After a while, the screams became a breathy rasp, the tears which were flowing so freely in the beginning ceased, and I lay there limp, bleeding, and defeated on that table.

Just as my eyes were glazing over, Crowley stopped, just short of me passing out. He walked over to the table and dropped the knife on the table with a loud clattering sound. As he was wiping his bloodied hands on a pristine white cloth, he left the room without a word. Not giving any indication as to what was going to happen to me or when he would be back.

‘I don’t want to be here, I want to go home.’ The phrase became a mantra repeated over and over in my head. The cuts slowly began to scab over, meaning any slight movement shot pain throughout my body. Breathing immediately became a painful ordeal. Soon the pain became too much for me to bear and I passed out cold.

 

The cheerful early morning sunlight peaking through the skylight wakes me up, only for reality to slap me across the face. I’m still tied to this table and still a prisoner of Crowley. I take a deep breath to calm myself and try to formulate an escape plan… All of which requires me to get free, so I attempt to break my bonds first and foremost. I rotate my wrist in an effort to loosen the leather hold. I try to reach the clasp with my fingers, however it is just out of reach. I wriggle around hoping to find a bit of give somewhere. However nothing seems to work. I am still just as stuck as I was before.

I fruitlessly put all of my energy into loosening the leather straps until around high noon, judging by the positioning of the sun in my little skylight. Exhausted, I just lay there watching the clouds lazily travel across the sky, reminiscing on the days when I would climb on the tops of the cars in Bobby’s junk yard and fall asleep in the warm sun. Back when the only thing I had to worry about was homework and chores.

I was jolted out of my memories by the harsh screech of the door opening. Any bit of comfort I had was swiftly taken away within a second. It feels like the weight of my fear is pressing down on my chest and squeezing my throat trying to suffocate me. Crowley finally comes into view.

“Hello there little rabbit, how are we feeling today?”

‘If my mouth weren’t so dry I would spit in your face, you fucker.’ I kept my mouth shut but nothing would silence my thoughts. I glare at him with a look that clearly communicates the hatred I’m thinking.

“Well, aren’t we feeling brave.”

Crowley snaps his fingers and motion towards me. Two men dressed in white doctor’s coats stop at either side of me with a metal table in tow. The tops of them are empty but it sounded like they have objects on the shelves underneath.

“I brought you a few of my friends in the medical profession to ensure you don’t die prematurely on me, don’t want to spoil all the plans I have in store… Have fun you three.”

And with that, Crowley leaves me alone with the two men. I was relieved when Crowley left but the fear of what these men could or were about to do over took my emotions. They both began to get busy preparing buckets of a strong smelling chemical. After inhaling the familiar smell I finally realize what they’re planning on doing, they’re going to clean each and every knife wound with an antiseptic. Before I have time to react, they began cleaning my body off with sponges of antiseptic, eliciting blood curling screams from me with every swipe. The liquid burns deep within each individual wound making my body feel like it’s being stabbed multiple times over with thousands of needles lit on fire.

A mixture of tears and snot are freely running down the sides of my face. Between each swipe I try to catch my breath before it’s taken away again. Every inch of my skin is screaming in agony. My exposed skin is littered with wounds currently being set on fire from the antiseptic, while the skin held by the restraints are rubbed raw from my thrashing. 

Just before I didn’t think I could take any more pain, they finished. At some point during the ordeal, they also stuck two IVs in my arms. ‘Wouldn’t want to die of dehydration…’ I quipped. They finally left the room leaving me alone, just for Crowley to enter in a second after. My eyes dart over to Crowley as he starts to speak.

“I hope you enjoyed your little visit. Now let get along with round two, shall we?”


	6. Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger Warning* (...probably. I'm just going to start putting that at the beginning of all my chapters...)

As I lay there on the table powerless, I can hear my heart beat beating strongly and steadily, each pound a mocking reminder that I’m still alive. ‘I just want this to be over. No more… No more.’ I had lost the hope of being rescued long ago when I saw the sigils on the walls. I knew that the chances of Sam, Dean, or Castiel finding me were slim with the angel proofing encasing me in this steel prison.

I have endured three days of this repetitive cycle. Crowley hacks away at my flesh, the doctors clean me up, and the cycle repeats again. I don’t know how much more I can take. 

The doors open to reveal the doctors again. They come in and begin to clean me up from the previous session. I have no more strength to scream, I lay there motionless with my eyes glazed over waiting for this horrendous torment to end one way or another. At times I pray that Crowley will knick an artery on accident just so my death will be quick.

I no longer have nightmares. At night I have dreams of being rescued by Dean, Sam, or even Castiel but when I wake up, that, that is my nightmare.

As in my dream every night, I’m laying on the metal table, as I have been for days, until the sound of fighting rouses my hopes. There is yelling echoing through the empty corridors and familiar voices filter into my confinement room. Never did I ever think that the sounds of Sam and Dean fighting would ever sound so sweet. Gun shots and the guttural sound of stabbing begin to get closer and louder until finally the door is kicked open.

They run towards the table. This time Dean’s face comes into view first. Dean is staring down at me looking over my injuries with an anxious expression close to tears. I stare up with a slight smile and a tranquil look on my face at the notion of being rescued from this hell hole. Sam is suddenly beside Dean looking over me with an expression of horror and distress. 

“Oh God, what have they done to you!? Everything’s going to be alright Sierra, I’ve got you. Sam, help me get her out of this!” Dean shouts to Sam in a frantic voice.

Each strap is swiftly taken off of in a blur of motion as I stay in my original position. As the end of my dream approaches, tears begin to fall down my neck burning any injury in its path. ‘I’m not ready for this to end. Please. Please don’t wake me up…’

As the last buckle is removed, Dean reaches down and gingerly grabs me under the knees and behind my back and lifts me into his arms. Not caring about the pain or the fact I was still unclothed, I squeeze his neck and cry into his shoulder getting the most out of the dream before it ends. 

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you, Sierra. I’m not going to let anything else happen to you. You’re safe.” Dean says near my ear squeezing me a little closer to him. 

A jacket is slipped onto my shoulders by Sam to help preserve some of my dignity and to keep me warm. I look up at both Sam and Dean with a perplexed expression. I begin debating with myself. ‘This hasn’t happened before. My dream ends before this. This can’t be real. Come to think of it, my dream typically ends with me still on the table.’ I glance over at the table to see an empty space where I used to lay. Tears begin to flood my eyes and pure elation begins to fill my heart. 

I rip my gaze from the table and look back at my confused and concerned rescuers with tears rapidly streaming down my face. “Sam…!? Dean…!? Are you guys really here!?” I ask in a broken voice between sobs.

Sam comes over and gently starts stroking the top of my head. “Yeah, we’re here. We’re bringing you back home. We’ve got you.”

We began to make our way back out of the place that has been my living hell for the last three days. Sam finishes off the stragglers in the hallway while Dean and I are behind him. At one point we passed the two doctors lying on the floor, the two doctors that made my life miserable. I understand that they were only possessed and they couldn’t stop what they were doing, but I felt a warped sense of justice seeing them there lifeless on the floor.

As my adrenaline began to slow, I start to feel each and every wound that is littered across my body. Each step Dean makes is a jarring sensation to my body, threatening to reopening previously scabbed over gashes. I briefly glance at Dean’s shirt and see all of the blood stains on his light grey T-shirt and blood smears on his jacket from carrying me. ‘I should probably wash that later…’ I think trying to distract myself from the pain. We ended up walking for around thirty minutes to get back to the impala. At first Dean was running with me in his arms, however once he heard me whimper from the pain it caused, he slowed way down to a brisk walk.

Once arriving at the car, we stood at the back door of the car for a moment or two Dean seemingly brooding on whether or not to ride in the back with me or to drive. Sam decides to intervene so we can hurry and get on the road. 

“Here, let me have her so you can get us out of here.” Sam calmly said to Dean while reaching his arms out. 

Dean gave a small nod in response.

Reluctant to let go, Dean carefully transferred me over to Sam with the smallest amount of movement possible before hopping into the driver’s seat. Sam slid into the back seat cradling me close to his body in a protective gesture. Exhausted from the ordeal, I rested my head on Sam’s chest, momentarily forgetting about how much laundry I would have to do afterwards. 

The impala roared to life announcing to the world that she was ready to go. The once soothing vibrations of the car promptly became a source of anguish as it threatened to pry more of my fresh scars open. With one hand I grasp the jacket covering my bare body closer and with the other I clutch onto Sam’s shirt. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to steady my breathing from its quivering state. 

Sam apparently noticed my pain. “Dean…” He started.

With gritted teeth I quickly interjected. “I'm fine, I just want to get home. Fast.”

With that, we made it back to the motel in less than forty minutes. The tension in the car was concentrated enough to cease any and all conversation. I, however, was in far too much pain to care. The tremors of the car were painful in and of itself, but I could also feel each and every tiny divot in the pavement shuttering through my body. It took every inch of willpower I had in my body to keep from screaming out in pain. I compromised for a small moan anytime the pain became too much. 

Dean got out of the car and opened the doors for both Sam and I for the smoothest transition possible. One perk of being carried by Sam? Long legs meant short rides. Two strides and we were already beside the motel bed. Sam set me down over the covers of the bed while Dean gingerly covered me with the spare blanket.

At that moment, I was completely content to fall asleep and catch up on several days worth of rest but then the quarreling started. 

Dean walked over to the bed with the first-aid kit in hand, fully intending to clean and stitch all the wounds until he was stopped by Sam.

“Dean, what are you doing?”

Dean had an astounded look on his face. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going to fix Sierra up. She can’t just walk around with wounds like that.” 

“Yes, that’s why we’ll call Cas down to fix her up. Who knows how long those wounds would take to heal!” Sam responded with an annoyed tone.

“I think you’re forgetting something Sam, we’re on the angels’ radar. If they found out that we let her get taken, who knows what they’d do!”

“Relying on Cas is the best option we have! We’ll deal with any consequences when we get there, but for now we need to make sure Sierra gets better!”

As their conversation started getting more heated, I decided to start mediating before fists started flying. 

“Hey!” I shouted, but it came out more as a hoarse bark sound instead.

Both Sam and Dean ceased fighting and focused their attentions on me.

“Considering you’re talking about MY body, I feel like I should have the main say in this matter.”

They both began to protest but I silenced them with pointed glares. 

“There are only a few large gashes that need to be stitched, but the rest will heal just fine on their own. Now, go get the sewing kit and the medicines, I want to go to sleep.” I finish with my raspy voice.

Dean helped me out of Sam’s jacket while keeping the blanket over me. He started on stitching my arm up while Sam helped get supplies. I quickly took notice on the future problem I would run into with the wounds on my midsection if I only had a blanket to cover myself. Sam was getting up to grab some more thread before I stopped him.

“Oh, uhm, Sam?” 

Both brothers ceased all movements and began listening carefully to my every word to which made my cheeks flush. I began to pick at the hem of the blanket I was using attempting to ignore the fact I was in the spotlight.

“Would you mind if… Could I…. May I borrow a shirt?”

It took them both a second until it dawned on them why exactly I was asking.

“Glad we’re all on the same page now.” I muttered more to myself.

It took about an hour, but all the major stitching was done. Thankfully, the combination of not having many major gashes on my leg and being riddled with knife wounds hid my own self harm scars. It took both Sam and Dean to help me into the oversized plaid button down shirt since my limbs were practically useless. Dean kept the blanket covering me while Sam dressed me. I felt like a child once again.

With my pain killers taken, I was finally able to get some sleep. I closed my eyes just for a second, but I got the shock of a lifetime when I opened them again. My heart rate sped up to supersonic speeds, my lungs couldn’t get enough oxygen in them, and my eyes began to dart all over the room in disbelief. I was back on the table in that wretched room. It was all a dream. I never left. Standing in the corner was a figure in a suit I couldn’t quite make out in my panicked state.

The man walked slowly towards me with a wicked grin on his face. “Hello, little rabbit. Have a nice nap?”

At that moment I did the only thing my brain could think to do. I screamed.


	7. Delusions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger Warning*

I couldn’t understand it. It felt real, every touch, every bit of pain felt so real. My mind couldn’t comprehend why I was still in this God forsaken place!

Crowley sauntered over to one of the tray tables and grabbed the next knife in the line. He thumbed the blade ensuring the sharpness was to his liking before stalking back towards me. 

“No, NO! GET AWAY FROM ME! DON’T TOUCH ME! DEAN!! SAM!! CAS!!” I screamed as loud as I could while wildly thrashing around trying to get free from my bonds. 

Crowley abruptly came running towards me which, in effect, only made me shriek louder. “DON’T TOUCH ME, STAY AWAY FROM ME!” I screamed expelling all the air out of my lungs.

He hovered over me and took hold of my shoulders and began firmly shaking me. “Sierra!”

Crowley was trying to keep me quiet, but I would NOT be silenced. I had a taste of freedom for a brief moment, even if it was simply a dream, and I resolved that I wouldn’t make it easy for him anymore. I wouldn’t die in this place. I would find a way out and I would be the one to put a bullet firmly between his brows. 

Crowley shook my shoulders more forcefully this time. “SIERRA!”

Amid my writhing and screeching, I became slightly puzzled. The way he called my name didn’t seem right. It somehow seemed reminiscent of how Sam or Dean would call my name. 

“Sierra! Wake UP!”

In an instant, I was transported back into reality. It was dark in the room, but I could see that I was back in the relatively safety of the motel room. I’m huddled over in the corner of the room tangled in bloodied bed sheets. Dean’s hands are securely grasped onto my shoulders and he is looking me straight in the eyes, an anxious concern written on his face, trying to evaluate whether or not I’m awake. Sam is behind him mirroring the same look on his face.

Although my mind was awake and aware, my body was still in the midst of a panic attack. I did the only thing I could think to do; I reached over and clung onto Dean. Dean let out a sign of relief and lifted me up across his lap just as he’s done for me in the past any time I’ve had an attack. With closed eyes, I sat perpendicular on his lap and resting my ear on his chest to listen to his steady heart rate. I subconsciously began to toil with the fray of his sleeve by his bicep. He quietly sat with me rubbing my back until it was over. I didn’t care at the moment how juvenile it was for me to need someone to calm down; I just basked in the warmth of sibling love. 

As my attack died down, Sam came over and offered a glass of water to me, to which I gratefully accepted. I returned the empty glass giving him a timid thanks.

Sam began speaking in a comforting tone. “Hey, you doing okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head. I wasn’t mentally ready to divulge the savagery I had endured the past few days. “What happened?” I asked Sam, my voice sounding thick with sleep.

“Well, first you began twitching in your sleep, but then you started screaming and jerking around in the bed. Before we could do anything you were already on the other side of the room in the corner. We couldn’t wake you.”

“Scared the hell out of us too.” Dean interjected.

“I’m sorry.” I said in a regretful tone, ashamed of what a nuisance I’ve become. 

‘Not only did they have to rescue me, but now they also have to deal with my night terrors. I just can’t stop causing them trouble.’ I berated myself.

Just before anything else could be said, Castiel materialized in front of us. The swift reflexes of hunters kicked in before their facial recognition did. Dean stood up, one arm curling me close to his side and the other aiming a gun to the intruder’s head. Sam stood between the trespasser and me, completely concealing my presence from the unknown person with his gun poised to kill. 

Cas looked perplexed at this strange reaction to his presence. “I heard Sierra call, I came as quickly as I could.”

We all exhaled our unease in one collective breath. Weapons were lowered and postures relaxed. 

“Where is Sierra? She seemed to be quite distressed when she called.” Cas questioned.

We were all hesitant to make any moves in fear of what heaven would do in response to my kidnapping. Unfortunately, my body decided it was time to come clean to Cas. Feeling a bit lightheaded from standing up so quickly and blood loss, I stumbled forward slightly making both Sam and Dean whip around to my sides to keep me upright and steady. If I had more energy I would have rolled my eyes at their overreaction.

Our new position left all my recent scars on full display to Castiel. We all stood in place, frozen. We were in shocked about how quickly our cover was blown. Cas was initially slightly taken aback but quickly regained his composure. He took a moment to look over all my wounds from afar, seemingly debating on what to do next.

Feeling self-conscious about only being clothed in Sam’s shirt and being stared at, I started fiddling with the bottom hem of the shirt. Blood started collecting in my cheeks. “Cas, please stop staring.” 

Being scantily clothed in front of both Sam and Dean didn’t bother me as much, since I grew up with them. Walking around with only a towel on was common place for the boys and I typically walked around in tank tops and knee high cutoff sweats. However Castiel was still a new member to our little group to me, so it felt weird to be in this state of dress in front of him.

Castiel seemed to be transfixed on my thigh. I blanched when I realized he was probably looking at the meticulous scars that I made and not the ones Crowley made. My scars were mostly concealed by the length of the shirt but there were still several rows poking out of the bottom of the shirt. Cas reached out to lift it slightly to get a better look. 

The boys, who were also accustomed to me being half dressed, picked up on my distress and sprang into action. Dean grabbed Castiel’s arm and pulled him away while Sam took a step back with me tucked into his side.

“Alright, Stephen Collins, that’s enough.“ Dean said to Cas. The angel simply looked confused at the reference and mystified as to why he was being held back.

Sam grabbed the nearest blanket and slung it over my shoulders. Still feeling a bit exposed, I wrapped myself tightly in the blanket. 

Cas somewhat recovered from his confusion. “What happened? Why is Sierra covered in wounds?”

As Sam and Dean were stumbling over their words trying to come up with a coherent excuse, I decided to tell the truth.

“Crowley decided to get some revenge by tracing over my skin with a knife.” I deadpanned.

… Well more like a half truth. I just happened to leave out the part where he did it for several days while he kept me prisoner.

Seemingly placated by this explanation, Castiel came over to me and pressed two fingers to my forehead healing all the wounds Crowley gave me. I take a peek at my arms, thankful to see that there aren’t any visual reminders of those hellish days. I look over to Cas and give him a huge smile and thank him. Cas left once again with only a simple head nod towards us. 

Ignoring the bio hazard scene on the sheets, I crawled back into the motel bed and collapsed onto the hard, flat pillows, just thankful that they’re there. After the eventful days I’ve had, I was physically and mentally exhausted; I was ready to sleep for weeks. My subconscious on the other hand, made sure I would never forget what had happened.

The torture Crowley inflicted affected me more than I had ever thought it could have. Each time I closed my eyes that night, I was back in the room strapped onto the table. Sleep was the one thing I desperately needed, yet was also the one thing I was deathly afraid of. 

I lay in that bed staring at the ceiling making note of everything that happened that night in attempts to pass the time. Dean got up from his bed and went into the bathroom, then went back to sleep. Two couples checked into their rooms, judging from the rolling from the suitcases and the keys jingling. Sam turned in bed, shaking me and the bed, and then began to mumble about tomatoes. I listened to people walking by our room and counted approximately 17 people throughout the night. The motor in our mini refrigerator would turn on for 5 minutes on the hour. The streetlight adjacent to us would flicker on once every 10 seconds. No matter how hard I tried to entertain myself, the hours just dragged by, morning couldn’t come soon enough. I felt miserable.

Sam was the first to begin rousing from his slumber at around 7am. I took the initiative and got up from my resting position eventually waking the room up naturally by my movements. 

After everyone was up and decent, we went to one of the local breakfast diners for food. Since I didn’t have my bag of clothes I had to improvise with Sam and Dean’s clothes. I ended up looking a bit like a homeless boy with my oversized well-worn clothes, but it got the job done. We looked at our food choices for a short while before ordering. Sam got something with fruit, Dean ordered the greasiest thing on the menu, and I got a large cup of coffee with a side of toast. When our orders arrived I received questioning stares from both boys, to which I promptly ignored. I didn’t care that they didn’t approve of my breakfast; it would give me enough energy to get me through the day and stay awake, that’s all I cared about. 

My second cup of coffee arrived at the table as I started asking about plans. “So, what’s on today’s agenda?” 

Dean was the first to answer. “Bobby has been hounding us all morning about bringing you by to see him. So we’ll stop by for a few days to quiet down the old coot. Plus a little R&R never hurt anyone.” 

I knew the comment about rest was intended directly for me, but I chose to let it go. It was far too early for a fight.

“Oh, okay. Speaking of which, where are we anyway?”

This time Sam chimed in while Dean was busy eating. “We’re just outside of Richmond. We should be back at Bobby’s in a few days.”

“Richmond? Virginia?” I asked

“The one and only.” Dean commented between bites.

I did a little bit of mental math in my head calculating distance and time. ‘If we’re in Virginia and we were originally in South Dakota that would have been a twenty four hour drive. That means I’ve been gone for more than three days!’

“Guys, how long have I been gone?” I asked, my face reflecting the unease I felt.

If they weren’t worried before, they sure were now. They both stopped eating and looked at me with furrowed brows and their eyebrows raised. 

“Sierra, you’ve been gone nearly a week. Is everything okay?” Sam asked, his eyes filled with worry.

In response to their apprehension, I relaxed my face and put on a gentle smile, not giving any indication of my inner turmoil. “No, no, everything’s fine. I just lost track of time I suppose. Just don’t tell Bobby, he’ll lecture me again about the importance of being observant.” I finished with a laugh to ensure they knew I was okay.

Although not totally convinced, they both relaxed and finished eating their breakfasts. 

I, on the other hand, was plunged into a pit of self loathing. ‘Not only did you trouble Bobby, Sam, and Dean, the only people in the world who would take you in by the way, with a rescue mission but you ALSO made them worry about you for a week! Such worthless scum can’t even take care of yourself for a second without causing people trouble. You have no right to call yourself a hunter.’ 

With this new combination of guilt and insomnia, I knew these next 24+ hours were going to be rough.


	8. Insomnia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger Warning*
> 
> Heres an extra long chapter, took me a bit but I'm pretty happy about it.

We were just over twenty hours into the trip and I was in a battle of wills with my consciousness. The purr of the engine combined with the steady vibrations of the Impala weren’t helping my situation either. At that point I had been up for around two and a half days.

………  
Back around the fourteen hour mark of our road trip, we decided to stop by a motel for some sleep before heading back out in the morning. It took about three hours of tossing and turning but I was finally able to fall asleep… although it was only about an hour’s worth of sleep. Before my body and mind could get anymore rest, the dream started again. Once again I was with Crowley strapped to the table and just as he was about to make his first slice, I jolted awake back to reality.

My sharp movements woke Dean up and had him on high alert. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?” Dean groggily asked while sitting up.

My heart rate was dangerously high and I wasn’t able to fully catch my breath making talking a bit difficult. “Nothing…I just… Have to pee.” I quietly and quickly whispered sounding a bit winded.

I got up and dashed to the bathroom in attempts to calm myself. I couldn’t bear to bother Sam and Dean again with something as trivial as a bad dream. I locked the door and turned the faucet on before grabbing a towel and sinking to the floor, knees against my chest, back resting against the bathtub. Luckily the tub was located on the other side of the room away from the door. I took the towel and breathed into it so my sharp gasps for air wouldn’t echo throughout the bathroom.

Sitting there let me get a grasp on my situation. I was sitting on the dirty bathroom floor of a random motel, exhausted and sleep deprived on the edge of a panic attack from a stupid dream. Tears started to drip down from my face, an involuntary reaction. ‘I’m so weak. I’m so pathetic… Can’t even sleep without having an anxiety attack. So disgraceful.’ My thoughts berated me. I looked over to the travel shampoo and conditioner bottles lying on the sink, it made me miss my shower bag. In particular it made me miss my razor, it always made days like this easier to deal with.

It took ten minutes for me to regain control of myself. With one final deep exhale, I got up and rejoined the sleeping boys in the main room. I crept back into bed with Dean trying my best not to wake him. I was lying on my back when he turned over to face me. “You alright?” He mumbled evenly his voice sounding like he had been up for a bit.

I hastily shifted onto my side, away from him so he couldn’t see how puffy my eyes were. I muttered a quick “Mhmm” and hoped he would just go back to sleep already.

……….

Although I was zoned out most of the ride, I caught the tail end of a conversation between Sam and Dean regarding our arrival time. With just under an hour until we reach Bobby’s house, I was getting antsy. Not only were several cups of coffee coursing through my veins, I had also knocked back a few energy drinks I got at the gas stations to ensure I didn’t fall asleep. The thought of seeing Bobby also got me anxious, I didn’t know if things would change between us since Crowley took me. The thought of our relationship changing scared the shit out of me, it was one of the few constant things in my life I could count on.

As the scene outside the window got more and more familiar, I got more and more nervous. We pulled into the drive way of Bobby’s yard and I saw him standing with his arms folded on the porch. I couldn’t get a good read on his mood since the light behind him was casting a big shadow on his face. These were one of the rare times I was in no big hurry to get out of the car and greet Bobby. I sluggishly got out of the car and hung back behind my brothers. This elicited a strong reaction of confusion from everyone. Dean and Sam looked at me and then looked at each other dumbfounded. Bobby, on the other hand, had enough with the dawdling. He started to stomp towards me at a brisk pace. His reaction made me back up into the side of the impala, but Bobby reached out and pulled me into his arms and hugged me securely. “I missed you kid. Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

I stood like a statue until his words registered in my mind. I reached my hands around to his back and firmly grasped onto his shirt and buried my face in his shoulder. Before I could stop it, tears began flowing freely in a soft stream down my face, effectively drenching Bobby’s clothes. I hated crying in front of any of them but this time it was unavoidable. My soft sobs started to rouse the concern of all three men. Bobby grabbed my shoulders and held me at arms’ length to get a good look at me.

Bobby started panicking. “What’s the matter, you’re not hurtin’ anywhere are you!? Why’re you cryin’?” 

Crying in front of them was a rarity that they seldom witnessed. I had my hands up to my face trying to wipe the evidence of the tears off, but they just kept falling. “I just… Bobby, I just didn’t think I’d ever see you or Sam or Dean again.” I choked out between tears.

Bobby pulled me back towards him, sensing that I just needed reassurance. Sam and Dean were on each side of me, one smoothing my hair and the other rubbing my back. “What the hell happened over there?” Bobby mumbled over my head to no one in particular.

I was eventually able to calm myself enough to convince the three that I was fine. ‘Nothing like an emotional breakdown to celebrate our reunion…’ I mentally quipped. 

We all finally headed inside and gathered around the kitchen table sipping on our beverages of choice. This time we all grabbed beer. We chitchatted about the ride over and current events but we were clearly skirting around the subject that I didn’t want to get to. There was an awkward silence descending upon the table, I knew the next question would be in regards to what happened during my absence, but that was also a question I wasn’t willing to answer. 

Bobby knew that I didn’t want to speak about it… But as usual, he asked anyway, being as tactful as always concerning this delicate subject. “So, what the hell happened when you three were separated?”

I let out a sigh, I knew Bobby was hard-headed enough to not let it go even if I begged. “There’s nothing to talk about, Crowley wanted revenge so he got it. Simple as that.”

“Like hell there’s nothing to talk about, don’t bullshit me, girl.” Bobby snapped back.

I was starting to get frustrated and my voice was starting to show it. “I told you what happened, what else do you want me to do?” 

Dean decided to offer in his two cents. “We want you to tell us everything; don’t give us this edited shit.”

“Yeah, because talking about torture always helps everyone out.” I shot back at Dean. Out of all people HE shouldn’t be the one lecturing about withholding information. 

This time Sam was up next to voice his opinion on the matter. “You’re not alone in this, you should trust us!”

“I do trust you, I trust all of you with my life! But the fuck is talking about it going to do!? It’s not going to change anything, the past is in the past, I’d like to keep it that way.” I abruptly got up from the table, snatched my beer and stormed out the door. I was tired of defending my position; I shouldn’t be the one on trial for getting kidnapped. 

Behind me I could hear Dean try to follow but he was stopped by both Sam and Bobby. ‘Good,’ I thought, ‘I’d hate to have to apologize later for cursing him out.’

Where I was going was no secret to anyone, it was a place I frequented when I needed some alone time. I went to the very outskirts of the yard and climbed through cars to get to the roof of a car on the top of a stack, stopping briefly to set my beer in the cup holder of one car. I lay on my back on the sunroof of the car wishing for the stars to be out. ‘Of all days for it to be cloudy…’ 

I knew I overreacted, I knew they were only trying to help, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t see the point in sharing the graphic details of what happened, there’s no good reason to dredge up the past I’m trying so hard to bury. I just want to forget that it ever happened and move on with my life killing some monster sons’ of bitches on the way. Nothing good would come from bothering them with my issues.

I lost track of how long I was out there, I got caught up in my mind. It wasn’t until I heard creaking that I realized someone had joined me on the roof. If I weren’t so sleep deprived, I probably would have jumped at the suddenness of a person beside me. 

“Lovely night for star gazing.” Sam said with a bit of playful sarcasm to break the ice.

I had calmed down enough to be civil, but not enough to have a conversation yet. I continued to stare blankly at the gray clouds above.

“Look, I’m not here to fight. We’re only worried about you. We just don’t want you to be struggling with something this big by yourself, alright?” Sam waited a bit and just sighed. “Anyway, come inside soon, it’s almost midnight.” He got up and started back to the house. 

I knew he was trying to help, and I appreciate that, but I’m still not mentally prepared enough to go back in my memories and recount what happened. I am already tortured with some of those memories every time I fall asleep. But I know if I delve deeper in those dark recesses of my mind nothing good will come of it. 

My thoughts started to attack. ‘Maybe you’re just too weak. Growing up relying on other people to fight your battles has made you into a pathetic adult who can’t even defend against getting kidnapped. D’ya hear what Sam said? Even they think you’re too weak to handle anything on your own.’ 

For once I agreed with my biting thoughts. “I need to be stronger.” I softly muttered to the sky.

When I got back into the house everyone inside had already gone to bed. I followed their lead and also went to my designated room to rest. I thought that maybe a familiar environment would keep the nightmares away and I could finally get more than an hour’s worth of sleep. And I was right, that night I got a whole three hours worth of sleep, enough to stave off insanity however not nearly enough to feel rested. I still felt like I hadn’t slept for weeks.

The physical manifestations of sleep deprivation were intense and getting worse by the day. Thinking clearly became a novelty; it felt like there was a permanent fog circling my brain. My balance was altered; I was in a constant state of vertigo. The vertigo also combined with the excessive coffee/energy drinks to make me feel nauseous constantly. And the fatigue, oh the fatigue. I couldn’t even do simple tasks without running out of energy. Miserable didn’t even come close to describing how I felt, all I knew was I needed a solution; I couldn’t live like this much longer.

Giving up hopes of falling asleep again I snuck downstairs to get some coffee and kill time online. I set up the coffee pot and started it. While I was waiting, I took out a mug, creamer, and sugar in preparation for that revitalizing liquid. I checked back to the pot but the coffee wasn’t nearly ready. I leaned over the countertop and rested the top half of my body on the surface with my arms folded and supporting my head. I glanced over left to the clock and read that it was only 3:08am. 

I released a long heavy sigh. “No one should be up at this ungodly hour.” I grumbled to myself.

“You got that right.” 

The bass of Dean’s voice and the suddenness of his stealthy arrival scared the living shit out of me. I got up far too quickly and slammed my head against the overhead cupboards I was resting underneath.

“Mother-!” I tried to soothe the pain from my head with my hands. “What are you doing up so early??” I asked with a bit of misguided frustration leaking out of my voice.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Dean said accusingly with his arms folded. 

I gave him the only plausible excuse I could think of with the timeframe I was given. “Research.” I pointed to the laptop sitting on the kitchen table.

Dean got annoyed at my blatant excuse. “Cut the crap Sierra, I know you haven’t been sleeping at nights. I know you’ve been having nightmares about when you were taken by Crowley.”

Responding to his attack I went to full on defense mode. “What if you’re right? What difference does that make!? ”

Dean just let out a huge sigh seemingly trying to calm himself before this escalated into a full on fight. “How long has it been since you’ve slept throughout the night?” He asked in a more controlled calm tone.

‘See, there he goes again, coddling poor little Sierra since she can’t even take care of herself. Such a pathetic waste of space.’ My thoughts whirled around my head. 

“ I’m fine.” I answer calmly to the floor mirroring his change of demeanor.

Dean takes hold of my shoulders. “No, you’re obviously not fine. You can’t even go a night without having nightmares!” Dean took a breath and released it slowly. “How long has it been since you’ve been able to sleep?” He asked with a domineering tone that demanded answers.

I sighed in defeat knowing that there was no chance in me winning this fight. “I haven’t had a full-nights rest since I’d been taken. I only get about an hour’s worth of sleep before the nightmares come.” 

Dean mumbled a curse under his breath, visibly upset at my answer. He walks over to the coffee pot and turns it off then walks to stand in front of me. “Okay, this is what we’re going to do.” He leads me to the couch and has me sit. “You’re going to sleep here and when the nightmares come, you wake me up immediately, you understand me?” 

I yield to his demand and nod hoping that it’ll work and I get some sleep, God knows how much I need it.

“Good,” He reaches over and pats the top of my head. “Now goodnight.”

I lie down on the couch and pull the blanket lying on the back of the couch over me. Dean sits on the floor with his back resting on the arm of the couch, content to sleep sitting up. 

Hours pass and I’m still awake on the couch while Dean is fast asleep, my insomnia leaving my thoughts as my only companions. ‘I’m so pathetic, I can’t live like this. I need to be stronger. ’

‘Look at the ‘baby of the Winchester family’ living up to her name, content to live life coddled and naïve.’

‘Not only has she inconvenienced Dean and Sam with her presence, but she continues to cause them more problems on top of the ones they already have. Shes just holding them back.’

‘Dean, Sam, and Bobby are out saving the world while you can’t even save yourself. How dare you call yourself a Winchester.’

Then I come across one thought that sticks with me. ‘She needs to go away.’

‘I need to go away.’ I think to myself, ‘I can’t help them with the way I am now, I need to become stronger.’

I had no plan, I was just making things up as I went. I snuck upstairs, grabbed my duffle bag before sneaking back down. I stood at the doorway and took one good look back. I don’t know if I’ll ever see this place again. But I know one thing. Each and every memory I have of this place and the people in it, either good or bad, will always stay with me in my heart. With that, I slung the duffle over my shoulder and started walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note* This isn't an ending, I'm still going to update but there are going to be some interesting developments following.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da! New chapter! I should have a bit more time to work on writing, so more chapters are on their way.
> 
> ::Definite Trigger Warning::

I’m walking down a dark pathway nestled between two buildings vaguely aware of the presence behind me. I pull my feet two steps forward, yet I hear the faint patter of four feet. I slow my pace and double check that my blade is tucked away in my inner jacket pocket. In an instant I whip out my blade and spin around and face my would-be attacker. 

The assailant has his hands up in a surrendering position. “Alright, you win. Lets not get too excited here…”

He swings one arm out and knocks out the blade clean out of my hand down the pathway. Before I could react he shoves me back and I trip over a flattened cardboard box. 

“When I first saw you at the bar, I thought it was too good to be true. I didn’t honestly think the infamous baby Winchester would be skulking around a trashy bar in this tiny town. But low and behold, here she is!” The demon finished with an ominous grin.

Frightened, I scramble backwards on the ground to get away from him as he stalks forward; clearly knowing he has the upper hand in the situation. “I can’t WAIT to bring you back to Crowley! I can just taste the promotion!”

Then I stop. 

I wipe the fear off my face and replace it with a triumphant smirk. The man seems stunned at my odd change of appearance, until he tries to step forward again.

“Oh, you Bitch!” He yells at me as his eyes briefly flashing red.

I get up from the ground and dust off my pants before removing the flattened box covering the devil’s trap containing the demon. 

Six months. I’ve been on the road for six months hunting anything and everything I’ve come across on my quest to become stronger. It’s been lonely without Sam, Dean, or Bobby to keep me company or to have my back, but I haven’t truly been ‘alone’ per say.

I turn my back on the demon to retrieve my knife. Brimming with rage, he launches himself forward to grab me as I walk by. A sudden thundering growl comes from between two dumpsters, effectively halting the demon’s movements. The dog that comes out from the shadows looks to have the height and build of a Great Dane with the face and coat pattern of a Doberman Pinscher. 

I sigh out loud. “Kuro, I told you to stay! I’m fine, he can’t get out of the trap!”

Kuro’s growling doesn’t stop, he continues to stay in a guarding position keeping a firm eye on the demon. I roll my eyes and continue to retrieve my knife from the ground.

The demon looks as if he were about to be sick he’s so scared. “How the fuck did you get that abomination!?”

I walk back towards the demon. “You know… Why won’t you demons leave my poor pup alone? Always picking on him… Isn’t that right Kuro?” I reach out and pat him on the head, “Well, whatever. I know you’ve been making deals with people around town, I’m here to stop you.” I say stopping in front of the devil’s trap.

The demon looks at me for a second, then laughs in my face. “Why would I be afraid of the poor, useless infant of the Winchester family? I mean look at you! You expect to kill me with that little knife and that filthy little mutt over there!? Don’t think I’m not up on all the rumors surrounding you Winchesters, you’re so worthless not even your so-called ‘family’ wanted you anymore! Oh, and by the way, Crowley gives his regards.” He finishes smugly.

I lunge toward him and firmly plant the knife to the hilt in his stomach. I had had enough with his chatter. The demon looks down at me with a pain in his eye and a dismayed expression. “By the way, when I left…” a flash of orange glow starts to emanate from within his body. I give the knife a twist in his gut for good measure. “…I took the demon-killing knife with me.”

 

After I watch his eyes become expressionless, I yank the knife out and let his body hit the ground with a hard thump. I mutter a quick “Douche” before leaving the scene with Kuro in tow. As much as I hated to admit it, what the demon said got to me. I’ve been gone for a while honing my skills with not much to show for it, I still didn’t come close to the skill level of Bobby, Sam, or Dean. At first my plan was to hunt on my own until I became as good as them then to go back home and show them how much I’d grown and prove to them that I belonged with them. But now… Now I was just running, too ashamed to go home. All this time and effort simply wasted. 

A small nudge at my elbow temporarily brings me out of my haze of self-loathing. Kuro’s normally erect ears are back and he has a look of concern in his eyes. I stroke the top of Kuro’s head; a soothing gesture for the both of us. “Don’t worry buddy, I’ll be okay… Eventually. I just need to get my head back on straight.” 

Kuro has been my sole companion since I left on this journey. Initially I hadn’t planned on having anyone or anything with me, but I just kinda stumbled upon Kuro on my first solo hunt. For whatever reason, he was kept locked up in a cage by a pair of demons. After I finished ganking the pair, I let the dog go free but he seemed to want to stay by my side. Since then he has been my partner, coming with me on missions and occasionally helping out here and there.

We arrive at the motel and we both gravitate towards the bed. I fall face first on the mattress and bury my head on the pillow. I feel Kuro jump onto the bed and then he lays side-by-side with me, warming me. After a second of stillness there is some movement and it’s getting closer to my head. I shriek into the pillow when I feel his cold wet nose on my ear. He then tries to nudge his way to my buried face. Giving up, I flip over and start laughing. “You’re so weird!” I rub behind his ears with both hands. “But I love you.” He lays back down again at my side content to just be stroked. 

“Alright buddy, I gotta take a shower. Guard the door.”Upon hearing that command, Kuro jumps to his feet, off the bed, and sits at the front door alert. “Good boy.” I call on my way to the bathroom.

I walk into the bathroom and prepare to wash all the grime off from the day. I stand under the barely-there stream of water and try to relax but the words of the demon keep intruding onto my peace. Falling into my characteristic pattern, I run my fingers up my thigh along the raised scars, grab my conditioner bottle peeling back the sticker to reveal my blade, and start making incisions attempting to bleed out the vile thoughts. I focus on the pain, the sharp, white-hot sensation of separating skin by dragging my blade across undefiled flesh. Slice after slice I continue the rhythmic motion reveling in the rush of pure bliss that warms my body, cleansing my mind. I stare, mesmerized at the vivid crimson streaks flowing the entire length of my leg pooling around my toes before into the shower drain. With each stroke my mind is flooding with ‘feel-good chemicals’ and I am content to drown in them; all the sins of my past being temporarily neutralized by my bloodletting –habit. It was only until I hear a faint whine from the outside of the bathroom door that I am broken out of my trance-like state. Coming back to my senses, I only then realize the mass amount of blood that has pooled at my feet and the stifling metallic scent wafting throughout the air.

I clean the blood off both my body and my surroundings before finishing my shower and drying off. I survey the damage to my leg, relieved that it is not as bad as I originally thought. More than I had originally intended but not the worst I’ve done. I drench it in antiseptic, thankful for the momentary bite, and wrap it tightly with gauze to halt the bleeding. I pull on my oversized T-shirt and rejoin Kuro in the main room. One perk of being alone is the vast array of choices in clothing I can wear without fear of my secrets being exposed. 

Feeling utterly blissful from my endorphin rush, I practically float over to the motel bed and curl up into it not caring about the scratchiness of the sheets or the rock like structure of the mattress. Kuro soon joins me, effectively taking up half the bed. I soon fall into a blissful slumber momentarily oblivious to the darkness that still lurks in my subconscious.

I open my eyes and I’m back in the room, the room that has haunted me ever since I was taken. My mind comprehends the fact that it’s a dream but each time I see it, the mind numbing fear from my memories takes all the air from my lungs. Recently the dream has twisted into something more sinister, I’m still strapped to the table, but in this variation Crowley tortures Sam, Dean, or Bobby.

Crowley approaches me acting as if he’s about to start slicing me up but turns at the last second. Dean appears, strapped to the table next to me in perfect view. With one slow drag of the knife, Crowley makes a long incision from the top of Dean’s shoulder down to his fingertips. I can see Dean trying to resist screaming, but he loses it when Crowley begins chopping off his finger tips with the butcher knife. Crowley tortuously works his way up Deans arm, eliciting a blood curling scream from Dean after every thunderous hack. No matter how much I scream, cry, or beg, Crowley refuses to stop or let me switch places with Dean. 

Crowley travels his way up both of Dean’s arms, and legs for what seems like hours of endless screaming and torture. Dean is nothing more than a torso and head, but he looks at me with tears in his eyes, begging, pleading for me to make him stop. Crowley stands behind Dean’s head and in one swift move, decapitates Dean. It’s only then, after I watch my brother’s eyes become lifeless, that I’m allowed to wake up.

I jolt awake sitting straight up, waking Kuro up with a start. Still reeling from my sick, twisted dream I can feel the acid in my stomach creep up in my esophagus. I bolt to the bathroom and empty the contents, or the lack there of, of my stomach. I sit on the bathroom floor for around 10 minutes trying to get control of my body and the dry heaves. Desperate for a cure for my nausea, I crawl my way to my duffel bag and rifle through for my little stash. 

The only way I had been able to survive the past few months is with my trio of meds: Emetrol for nausea, Sleeping pills for endless nights, and caffeine pills for equally endless days. I dig through my bag and find my nausea medicine and take a small swig hoping my stomach will stop wanting to climb out of my mouth. I sit there and lay my head on my bag wishing that my body functioned like a normal person’s.

Moments later, I hear the tell-tale signs of someone trying to pick their way into my motel room, as did Kuro. We both became on high alert. Kuro went to stand by the door, poised to attack. I grab my gun… and some pants, before standing with my back against the wall directly beside the door. Just as the door opens, I cock my gun back. “Freeze. If you leave now, I’ll go back to bed and you can go about your day without bullet holes littering your flesh.”

“Sierra?” The man behind the door asked.

The voice that I hear fills me with equal parts of dread and relief. I quickly tell Kuro to stand down before he attacks and I flip on the light. When I turn back to the door, both Sam and Dean are standing at the doorway. They both look as if they were seeing a ghost for the very first time. 

“You know, breaking and entering is a crime…” I said in attempts to break the ice.

Out of nowhere, Dean comes right up to me and sweeps me up into an embrace, strong enough to suffocate me. He doesn’t say a word and neither do I. I just cling onto him, forbidding the tears in my eyes to fall. He lowers me back to earth.

I’m on the ground for a second before another pair of arms lifts me up and envelopes me. “You’re alive” Sam says in my hair sounding close to tears himself. Sam’s statement was the final straw for my emotions; I buried my head in his neck and started to cry.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger Warning*

Now that our brief, touching reunion was over, it was time for the yelling and screaming to begin. I’m sitting on the bed with Kuro lying behind me, keeping a watchful eye on the two strangers standing in front of me, he helped me keep my composure a bit just by being by my side. It’s as if his close proximity to me was encouraging that I’d make it through and that he had my back if things turned violent. Nervous about my impending doom, I was staring at my lap and began to subconsciously rub my hand over the multitude of scars on my thigh, being gentle as to not open any of the fresh wounds.

Dean was the first to initiate the verbal scolding “Do you know how worried we were about you!? Why the fuck would you just up and leave us like that!?”

I was filled with shame. Not only did I not want our reunion to be like this, I also didn’t want to be found in the first place. I felt like such a failure on so many levels. 

Sam continued where Dean left off “You left us with no note, no way to contact you, and no indication of why you left in the first place! At first we thought you were taken again by one of the MANY things that want us dead!”

Kuro had enough with the yelling. He apparently felt like there was an imminent threat to my life. So he quickly got up, wedged himself between the boys and me, and then began to snarl fiercely. Both Sam and Dean took a step back from the teeth.

“And another thing, what the hell is up with this dog!?” Dean asked.

“Kuro, relax. They’re fine, it’s okay.” I said stroking the raised hackles along his spine.

It took him a second to calm down, but he eventually lay down beside me on the floor adjacent to the bed while still keeping an eye on the boys. I sighed. I knew Sam and Dean wanted answers. I knew they deserved answers but I was still so humiliated of my lack of progress. All the pain and worry they felt because of me was all for nothing, I caused it all. I still hadn’t come up with a proper excuse for my actions, so I simply didn’t say anything concerning my absence holding a slight sliver of hope that they would conveniently forgive and forget. The phrases ‘When hell freezes over’ and ‘When pigs fly’ suddenly popped in my mind.

“I kinda stumbled on Kuro during a hunt… I suppose I inadvertently saved him from some demons. Afterwards he just happened to tag along.” I said timidly glancing at their irate faces before snapping my gaze back to the floor.

Dean looks absolutely pissed at my vague explanation but he takes a breath to keep himself from yelling again. He has a gruff growly tone to his voice “That’s it? That’s the only explanation we get? Sierra, do you know how long we have been looking for you? Six months, we have been looking for you for six months not knowing if you were alive or dead! You owe us an actual God damned explanation!” Dean finishes with a severe authoritative tone. 

My emotions have begun to turn all my pent up shame and embarrassment into rage, another healthy habit shared by my adoptive family. “Look, guys. I didn’t ask to be found, I didn’t WANT to be found, I went through great lengths so I WOULDN’T be. So don’t come marching in on your self-righteous horses expecting me to bow down to your every demand like some indentured servant! You guys came looking for ME not the other way around!” I finish with my face red from irritation.

Sam’s expression was that of empathy and sadness. His face read that he finally understood how Dean and his dad felt when he himself ran to Stanford but that he could also understand the need to get away from both family and hunting. 

Dean’s expression was that of poorly concealed rage and pain, not only has his brother run away from him, but now his sister had as well. He looked as if he wanted to blame himself for his siblings’ need to run away. 

I, on the other hand, was radiating fury. My anger only negatively contributed to the charged atmosphere and was encouraging more yelling. I knew I had to calm down and give them a chance to calm down before it morphed into a physical fight. 

I abruptly stand, face away from them, grab my hoodie, sling it on, and begin to walk towards the door. Both of them are flabbergasted by this sudden change in demeanor, but Sam is the one who investigates. “Sierra, where are you going? Sit down, we need to discuss this!”

Kuro gets up from the floor and walks side-by-side with me to the door. “Out. I need some air.” I deadpan.

Sam gently grabs my arm with one of his hands as I walk by and tries to grab the other but only catches my hood instead. I jerk out of his grasp and continue to the doorway. Sam sounding frustrated asks “When will you be back??” with a bit of a huff.

Dean answers for me in a snide remark. “Knowing her, she’ll be back in only four months this time…”

At that point I slam the motel door to let out some of my seething wrath and just start to walk with Kuro. I had no clear destination; I just knew I needed to walk. I urgently needed air to clear my head and some extensive exercise to release my pent up rage.

Shutting my brain down and listening to the sound of my footsteps was the best therapy. I let the sound consume my thoughts and let the rhythm ease my mind. Nothing mattered; it was just me, Kuro, and the asphalt under my feet. Although my muscles started to burn I reveled in the pain. Just because I’m away from my blade didn’t mean that I couldn’t get my pain release. It helped me breathe, made each breath feel like a cleansing wave purifying my filthy conscience.

When I came to my senses, I realize I have been walking for hours. The feeling of fatigue quickly overcame my system making its presence well known. I glance down at Kuro noting his lethargic strides and lolling tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth, exhaustion overtaking him as well. I take a quick look around, hoping to see familiar roads, however I see nothing I recognize. I’m in an abandoned part of an industrial town. Temporarily halting my quest on finding the motel, I do the next best thing and find a building to squat in for a bit. 

We make our way to an abandoned loading bay and bust in the door. We head over to the back right corner, the cleanest corner, and rest. Kuro lies on the floor sprawled out without a care and I lay my head on his chest, thankful for such a soft pillow in comparison to my concrete mattress. I fall into a dreamless sleep for once in a very long time.

“Sierra.”

A gravely -bass voice wakes me from my provisional slumber. My body reacts in an instant. I am up and on my feet in a fighting pose ready to whip out my gun at the voice, when my brain finally wakes up. Sam and Dean are standing in front of me looking rather pissed off… again. My inner narrator kicks in ‘What is up with pissing off Sam and Dean so often? Jesus, just can’t catch a break these days.’

“So what, are we going to have to put chains on you to stop you from running away from now on?” Dean says not withholding any venom from his tone.

I simply roll my eyes at him and his presumptions “Running away wasn’t my intention. I got lost, then decided it would be better to rest here verses face down in the middle of the road… Unless you’d prefer me to get snatched by whoever felt like it.” I say lacing my statement with sarcasm. “How did you guys find me anyway?”

Sam reaches over and magically pulls out a small cell phone out of my hood. “I slipped it in before you left, just in case. Looks like I made the right move.” Sam says calmly in a monotone voice.

I can’t help but roll my eyes once again but this time at their total distrust of me. “Putting aside that major invasion of privacy… Please take us back to the motel, Kuro and I are still exhausted. Concrete doesn’t make good napping material.”

Sam and Dean look a bit shocked and relieved at the fact that I actually want to go back and that they don’t have to drag me back as I suspect they were anticipating. We all turn on our heels and head to the door. 

Before we are able to exit the bay, we all freeze at a familiar voice echoing behind us. “Hello sweetheart.”


	11. Surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger Warning... probably?*

I found out that in the presence of mind-numbing fear, your body can do amazing things. My heart did a multitude of actions within the span of a second. It dropped down to my stomach, before rising back up past my chest to my throat, then finally settled for beating at super-sonic speeds against my ribcage as if trying to escape. Of all people, or in his case things, I didn’t want to see, Crowley was number one on my list.

Sam and Dean whip out their guns while stepping in front of me as a human barrier. Kuro was still right by my side snarling at this unwanted guest.

I, however, did something that I’d never thought I would ever do in my life when faced with an enemy. I froze. I couldn’t move my body. There was some kind of disconnect between my mind and body, as much as my mind was commanding that I grab my gun or knife or do something , my body just wasn’t listening. The only action my body is doing is trembling uncontrollably.

Sam speaks with his jaw clenched. “What do you want Crowley?”

With a smirk Crowley began to talk “Aww, look at the poor little rabbit shaking behind her dear old big brothers. Don’t be so conceited Love, I haven’t come for you, I just came to confirm a little something.” He takes a small step to the side and squints, eyeing Kuro for a second. “Interesting… It seems as if my little Hell Hound experiment has taken a liking to the angel vessel.”

The confusion is almost palpable in the air. “What the fuck are you talking about Hell Hounds? The only dog here is this mutt, but he clearly isn’t a Hell Hound.” Dean voicing what we’re all thinking.

Crowley gives a scoff and looks at us like we’re idiots “Sorry, I forgot who I was talking to for a second. You see, once upon a time I had a little group of underlings experiment in the Hell Hound Husbandry department. That thing over there is half dog half Hell Hound, it seems he was stolen from us a few months back.” Crowley gives me a pointed look before huffing and continuing on. “But all is well; he appears to be a defective one. I had high hopes for this one when I heard of his murderous rampage killing off half of those in charge of the program. However no good Hell Hound would follow orders from humans, especially ones with angelic ties. Oh well.”

I scrape some of the meager courage I have left to form a coherent sentence. “You’ve got your answer, now leave before we start putting holes through your expensive looking suit.”

“Feeling brave today, are we little rabbit? All’s well, I must be off anyway, people to see, deals to make. Ahh, yes, one more thing before I leave Sierra. Have your dear family learned about your particular…” He clears his throat for dramatic effect “habit?”

Astonishing how one simple sentence can fill someone with absolute dread, a terror that makes one wish for death rather than face the situation at hand. It feels like all the oxygen in the air has suddenly vanished and time has slowed to a single second. I knew that Sam and Dean would eventually figure out my vice, however I was counting on the fact that it wouldn’t be this day… or any other day in the foreseeable future, if I could help it. I had to think of something to get Crowley to shut up, and fast. My relationship with Sam and Dean is on thin ice already from recent events, I know that one more little crack could spell the end of our relationships.

Crowley notices both Sam and Dean’s dumbfounded expressions and my ghost-like complexion. He smirks while giving a little snigger “Didn’t think so. Well then, let me enlighten…”

Before he is able to say any more, fueled by my wrath and terror, I find the strength to take out my gun and unload my magazine in his direction. I am left in my firing position aiming at an empty wall, heaving, trying to catch my breath.

Sam and Dean look at each other then over to my nearly-hyperventilating frame in shock of the shit that just went down within the span of a few seconds.

Although the terror hasn’t left my system, I am relieved at the prospect of my secret staying just that. I use the rest of my energy to keep up appearances and pull myself together. Just because I haven’t gotten stronger doesn’t mean I have to act like I haven’t gotten stronger… I put my gun away and stand up straight putting my shoulders back and head up. I slowly turn heel and walk out the door towards the parked Impala with my usual relaxed stride.

They both eye my calm demeanor suspiciously at as I walk past. I can hear them muttering behind me. “Well, that was weird.” Dean says over to Sam. “Yeah…” Sam mumbles back.

I have no time to listen to them though; my mind and body are currently in a war over who gets control. My mind is fighting for control over my body, while my body is threatening to release all my pent up panic. ‘Keep it together. You’re fine. You’re safe. Just keep walking. Keep it together. Don’t break down. We’re fine, nothing happened. Just breathe.’ I tell myself in rapid procession hoping to stop the small, incessant spasms wracking their way through my body. My heart is still racing at the memory of seeing Crowley again after… after the incident.

I reach out with a shaky hand to pull on the backdoor handle but Dean’s voice stops me. “Hold on Sierra.” I close my eyes and furrow my brow at the interrogation that I know is coming. ‘They couldn’t have waited until I was at least sitting down!?’ I snipe.

I turn around and lean on the door hoping that it’ll give me some stability for my trembling body and some patience for my restless mind. “Hmm?” I ask hoping to convey a sense of nonchalance.

“What was all of that about back there with Crowley? What was he talking about a habit?” Dean asks as he stops in front of me.

“You guys know better than me that Crowley just wants to screw with us, nothing new there. He’d say anything to get a rise out of us.” I say trying to play down Crowley’s statements.

“But why a habit? That’s what I just don’t get.” Dean asks looking unsure of who to suspect is lying.

Although I know he is alluding to the fact that Crowley doesn’t flat out lie about the dirt he has on us, I just give him a little shrug acting as perplexed as he is.

Sam comes over and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Are you alright? I mean, this is the first time you’ve seen him since we rescued you…” He finishes in a soft tone with sympathy in his eyes.

I gently shrug his hand off so he doesn’t notice my trembling and go for a cheery approach. “I’m fine! I’m over it already! That was the past, I’m fine now. I mean Crowley is still a douche, but there’s no changing that.” I laugh trying to diffuse some of the suspicion directed towards me.

The pair let out a small sigh reluctantly letting both issues go as they didn’t know what to think anymore.

With the talks and suspicions temporarily halted, we all pack into the car, Sam and Dean in the front and me and Kuro in the back, and drive back to the motel. I let the gentle vibrations of the car and Kuro’s warmth on my lap relax my tense body, just feeling thankful that I get a reprieve from the interrogations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably going to spend some time re-reading and re-editing past chapters to ensure I can be proud of what I've written (I'm a perfectionist, so sue me.). So, try to be patient while I polish up a few spots!! May I recommend binging on either Leverage or Hannibal?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger Warning*
> 
> Man this chapter took forever to write... Also, it makes me kind of sad that when I write it all down in Word the chapter looks huge, but when I put it on here it looks so small. Meh, whatever.

Before we even got to the hotel room, I could feel it. I knew something with my body was off. Little did I know that the following events would turn my world upside down.

When we arrived at the motel I was in a hurry to jump straight into the shower. The Impala's cold leather seats combined with my nap on the cold concrete left me with a body screaming out in desperation for warmth.

I hop into the shower the moment it gets remotely close to warm and enjoy it immensely. Warmth is soaking into my very core, heating up my cold and weary bones. The precious stream of warm water soon becomes my enemy as it hit the raw cuts on my thigh. I wince when I see how irritated the gashes look. 'Must have been the impromptu fifteen mile walk...' I think to myself. In dire need of relief, I rinse my thigh with cool water trying to quell its animosity towards me and then gently re-wrap it hoping it’ll behave.

My bliss from my steamy shower is short lived as I walk into the main room to see Sam and Dean sitting on the beds. To any normal person this may just seem like two people relaxing on their beds; however I know how to read in between the lines when it comes to them. I know that this positioning is a prerequisite to a long heart-to-heart that will most likely involve yelling. Hurray.

Knowing all too well about these 'interventions', I'm tempted to lock myself in the bathroom and escape out the window. However I also know my brothers well enough to know that they'd see right through my plan and catch me mid-escape. Instead I do the responsible thing and grab a chair to sit in front of them.

"Alright, let's get this talk over with so I can go to bed." I say not trying to disguise my annoyance. 

The looks of anger I received were enough to shut me up immediately. I am incredibly grateful when Kuro comes over and curls up by my feet. I could use all the moral support I can get; their looks warned me that any false move on my part will result in tearing me a new one.

Sam reins his anger in just enough to speak without shouting. "What's been going on with you lately? First you run away from us for months and then we have to drag you back with us only for you to escape again."

I was tempted to correct him since I didn't run away the second time, I merely got lost, but I didn't think it was wise to push my luck.

Sam continues. "And now Crowley is talking about some habit. What's going on? What are you hiding from us?" Although his facial expression shows confusion and concern, his voice sounds like he is almost pleading for me to divulge all my secrets I’ve kept locked away.

“I still want a damned explanation of why you left in the first place!” Dean mutters with anger edging at his voice.

At this point I'm stuck, I don't know what to say to appease them. I know they want the truth, but as usual, it's not the right timing. I’m afraid that if I bring out all my skeletons it will only further to widen the gap between our relationships and cause them more unneeded stress … Ironic how the one who tries the hardest to not rock the boat, is typically the one causing the most waves. 

I can feel their stares burning a hole in my forehead, they want an answer. Now. "I don't know what you want me to say." I squeak out timidly. 

Dean raises his voice, "The truth!" 

“I can’t.” I say, my voice getting caught in my throat. I’m on the verge of crying, the stress of the situation is chipping away at my resolve. I want to tell them the truth, I really do, but I’m just as equally afraid to. 

“Why the fuck not?” Dean lets out forcefully, standing up, not holding back any of the frustration he feels.

Sam clears his throat aggressively, not so subtly indicating to Dean that he needed to back off.

And just like that, my resolve is broken. I can’t hold back the truth any longer, I have to tell them. Just before I lose my nerve I whisper almost inaudibly, “I’m ashamed.” 

“What?” Dean asks, his anger rapidly deflating. He shrinks back to sit on the edge of the bed while Sam walks over to kneel at my eye level.

“Why?” Sam asks baffled and concerned by my revelation.

I take a breath to quiet the voice in my head screaming for me to stop. “I’m so… I’m just, so weak, physically and mentally, with hunting and everything else in my life for that matter. I was just so tired of feeling like the idiot of every group. I wanted to get stronger so I could actually be on par with you both and not just be the token girl. I need to know that I’m not by your sides out of sympathy for the poor orphan. I want to be by your sides because I’m good at what I do.”

I tried to hold off as long as I could, but by this point the tears are freely falling from my face. There is no stopping my mouth as well. Just like the river of tears coming from my eyes, information just stared to spill from my mouth.

“So why did you leave?” Sam asks, lightly resting his hand on my knee encouraging me to continue. 

“Because I thought that leaving would help, I thought that if I were hunting on my own I’d be able to improve my skills faster. In theory, after I’d gotten stronger I would have come back, proud to show you all what I’d become; how much stronger I’d become. But months went by with only minimal improvements and my determination began to wear thin. Soon, just the thought of going back without any results became hard to stomach. So I just didn’t. I didn’t want to believe that I cause you all so much pain for nothing, yet, here we are.”

I don’t know why I was feeling so forthcoming with information but Dean capitalized on my mood and started asking some of his burning questions.

“How did you manage to escape from us this whole time?”

To my relief, I calmed down enough to not sound like I was drowning mid-sentence. 

“I just did the opposite of what you guys would do. I stayed at random hotels in the center of town, chose tiny cases in places that were in the middle of nowhere, and at any sign of another hunter, I ran the other way without looking back. I also bribed some of the bartenders to call me if one of you came into town as extra insurance. It was useful strategy more than a few times.”

Before they could drag anymore information out of me, I quickly got in my own burning question. 

“How did you know where I was?”

Sam decided to fill in the blanks. “We had Bobby doing location spells, but by the time we’d get there, you’d already left. That is, until we got lucky this last time. We were able to…”

Sam is talking, I know he is talking, but I can’t focus on what his words mean. My head is fuzzy, I feel like my mind is orbiting around my body. 

Dean notices my unease before Sam and speaks up. “Sierra, you okay?” Dean asks while getting up from the bed and walking over. He stands beside Sam, towering over both of us.

Sam takes both of his hands and places them under my jaw to check me out but is taken aback. “Sierra, you’re burning up!” He says pressing a hand to my forehead.

I manage a small smile to ease their furrowed brows, “I guess that’s what I get for sleeping on the cold ground.” I slur slightly, feeling fatigued. 

Sam fetches the medicine bag and hands me some ibuprofen and a bottle of water.

“Get some rest, we can talk more in the morning.” Dean says lightly while patting my head. 

In that moment, I felt light as a feather, for once in a long time life feels normal. All the fear and anxiety pressing onto my chest was relieved in an instant. Although they’ve met some of my skeletons, they haven’t run away. Instead of a constant dread thrumming in the background, it feels like everything is going to be okay. 

 

I stir slightly to find that I’m inadvertently snuggled between Sam and Kuro’s sides in my vain attempts to get warm. Despite my own personal heaters and a sea of blankets enveloping me, I’m still on the verge of my teeth chattering I’m so cold. I barely lift my head up an inch or two to look at the time, but I promptly regret the decision. The pounding in my head was enough to incapacitate me, but it also brought with it a nauseating vertigo. I lay there, desperately trying to get my world to stop spinning and the pain to cease with no avail. 

After what seemed like hours of spinning, my stomach started to flip around in response. My heart began to race, indicating to me that I need to get to a bathroom, fast. I shoot up and bolt towards the bathroom, accidentally shoving Kuro off the bed in the chaos of my mad dash. I don’t even make it half way before toppling over from a mixture of fatigue and vertigo. I wrap an arm around my stomach and a hand around my mouth praying that it will help hold off the inevitable. 

Not being able to get to the bathroom in time isn’t a new thing for me. Over the past few months, the combination of sleeping pills and vivid nightmares did wonders to my motor skills and sometimes I wouldn’t be able to run fast enough. However vomiting on the floor is much more mortifying when there is an audience to witness it firsthand. 

I’m so preoccupied with my own crisis; I don’t even notice that I’ve awoken the whole room. Before I can comprehend what is happening, two hands grasp my waist and transport me to the bathroom. As my body is wracked with dry-heaves, those same hands are stroking my hair back and rhythmically rubbing my back all the way through this ordeal. 

Twenty minutes pass and my body is still trying to bring up more stomach bile. A cool washcloth is placed at the base of my neck and soon after my stomach settles to its original position in my body.

All my power has been zapped away from this marathon. I’m collapsed over the toilet eyes closed shut, one arm lying across the bowl holding my forehead up, the other clutching onto the side of the bowl keeping myself upright, trying to gather my strength again. I groan at the feeling of my stomach rolling again. I can’t possibly comprehend what else could possibly come out, but my stomach was determined. “Emetrol” I was able to croak out, hoping that someone would be able to hear. Whoever was rubbing my back, stopped momentarily before continuing. ‘Of course no one hears me, just my luck.’ I think to myself bitterly. I can’t move without risking my nausea to be increased tenfold, at this point I would probably cry but that takes energy and my stamina is already running on fumes. 

My head is pounding, I’m dizzy, my nausea is about to throw me into another fit of dry-heaves, and I feel so pathetically weak. I don’t even have enough vigor to thank whoever is caring for me, or more appropriately, apologize for how much of an inconvenience I’ve become. 

Another pair of hands gently lifts my head and brings a bottle to my lips, I can’t even fight the bottle away. If I take any water, I foresee myself vomiting it back up in a few minutes. When the liquid hits my tongue I’m appreciative that it’s my Emetrol. The solution hits my system and calms my stomach and gives me enough energy to lift my head.

Although my vision is still blurred slightly, like I’ve just woken up, I’m able to see that Dean is the one sitting on the tub’s edge rubbing my back. Sam is leaning with his hip on the counter with his arms crossed, seemingly deep in conversation with Dean over my head. When they notice me, they both drop the conversation and go straight into overprotective mode.

“Hey, how’re you feeling?” Dean asks, helping me partially sit up.

I groan as a response, I feel as bad as I probably look. “How… Long have I…Been here?” I answer in a broken whisper, surprised to hear how hoarse and gravely my voice is. 

“A little over an hour, it’s around 4am” Dean informs me.

“I found your stash of medicines when I got your Emetrol.” Sam interjects. “Sierra, why do you have all those pills” He asks with a disapproving tone. 

Dean looks as if he doesn't want Sam to ask now, but also curious as to what my answer is going to be.

“They help… me.” I manage to get out despite the rawness of my throat.

“How do they help you?” Sam asks sounding slightly ticked that he has to pry the information out of me.

“The nightmares--” I begin before getting cut off.

“--You still have those?” Dean interrupts looking surprised at my unexpected answer.

I begin to nod my head but think otherwise and stick with verbal answers. “They’re worse.” I blink a few times and look back at Dean. My dreams and my reality start to blur together. My heart rate picks up, I don’t understand what is going on. “You’re supposed to be dead, how did you come back? Crowley killed you, I watched it happen!” I say frantically.

Dean places a firm hand on my shoulder to placate me and to keep me from becoming hysterical. “Shhh-shh, everything’s going to be okay Sierra” He says in a reassuring voice. He looks over to Sam, his worried expression mirrored, “We need to take her to bed. Help me hold her up.”

Sam kneels on the ground and pulls one of my arms over his shoulders and snakes another around my waist. “Dean, she feels hotter than before, she’s really sick.” He says with a distressed tone.

Suddenly standing drained all of the blood from my head. I could feel my body go heavy and my vision turned black instantaneously. I would have hit the floor if it weren't for the fact I was being held up by Sam and Dean. 

The last thing I remember is the sound of the Impala roaring to life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Side note* I'm thinking of changing the character name, any thoughts on the matter?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Probable Trigger warning*

*Beep*… *Beep*… *Beep*…

‘God, that stupid beeping needs to stop.’ I think to myself, ‘Where the hell is that even coming from? Is it an alarm clock...? I don’t think any of ours sound like that. Maybe the TV was left on…? Probably Dean and his stupid medical soaps again..."

“Is she waking up?” Asks a strange male voice. “I think so” responds another female voice. 

‘Who is speaking so loudly, this early in the morning? I’m so tired. Just give me another hour, one more hour of sleep then I’ll be good.'

"Ma'am, can you hear us?" Asks the male voice.

‘Nope, now go away. I don’t know you... Wait, why is it so close to me?’

It takes me a split second to realize that someone is beside me speaking and that I need to get up and protect myself. My eyes fly open and I attempt to reach for a weapon only to find that my arms and ankles have been tightly restrained. I faintly register the sounds of the background beeping getting louder and faster. Flashbacks of Crowley come to the forefront of my mind. ‘Oh God, I’ve been taken again. He’s not going to leave me alive this time. Oh shit, if he has me, he probably has Sam and Dean as well; he’s going to kill them!’ The sea of white coats only serves as further evidence to my initial thoughts. 

“Stay away from me!! LET ME GO!!” I scream not holding back any of my rage or fear. Crowley’s torment was bad enough the first time; I’ll be damned if I just sit back and let it happen again. 

They flock around my thrashing body, restraining my arms and legs in an unyielding grip despite my struggles. Amid the ruckus, a syringe is forced into my veins and I am involuntarily plunged into a drug induced calm.

"Nurse," the male voice calls across the room, "Get her brothers in here before she wakes again."

‘Run Sam, Dean!' is my only coherent thought before I become unconscious. 

My dreams are tainted with the images of Sam and Dean suffering the same torture I endured at Crowley's hand.   
……….

 

As my body fights off the medication, I can feel my mind pulling me out of my nightmare and back into reality. The moment I regain feeling in my limbs, I shoot upright and try to launch myself out of my bindings and onto the floor. On both sides of the room two men, presumably my security detail for situations such as this, come at me and hold my shoulders down, attempting to subdue me. They were shouting at me, but I couldn't hear them, I didn't want to hear them. I didn't need my head filled with their threats and lies; I know all too well how demons operate.

A glance at the doorway stuns me into submission. Dean is there, casually leaning against the frame. To my other side is Sam quickly approaching my bed. At first I believe his intentions are to help fight off the men, but they quickly make way for him and leave the room. 

I am absolutely astounded. 'The fuck...? What is their relationship with the demons? They didn’t… They didn’t sell me to them… Did they? It would make sense that they would want to get rid of me, but I didn’t think they would ever actually turn on me. Is it because we’re not… blood related?' 

"Sierra I don’t know what you’re thinking but you need to calm down.” Sam just short of begs me, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. “Your heart rate monitor is going ballistic. I'll take the restraints off but you have to calm down." 

At first I don’t understand what he’s talking about, until the numbness wears off and I can feel how frightened I am at the mere thought of my only family betraying me. I take a few soothing breaths before I have a panic attack.

“That’s it, just relax.” Sam’s cooing as if talking to a frightened animal that’s about to bolt, “Everything’s fine.”

After my restraints are taken off, I demand explanations. “Where are we and why are you teaming up with demons??”

“Demons? What are you talking about? We’re in a normal hospital Sierra.” Sam says solemnly.

Of all the answers I was expecting, a simple, normal one wasn’t one of them. “Hospital? Why are we at a hospital? I feel fine.” I ask completely bewildered.

“What is the last thing you remember?” Dean asks, shutting the door and advancing towards the bed with an unsettling calm.

“Uhm, last thing I remember was puking my guts up and then getting really dizzy when you guys tried to take me to bed. Did you guys seriously take me in just because I passed out?” I ask with a sarcastic tone at their overreaction.

Sam matches my sarcastic tone, “You had a fever of 104 and you were passed out for several hours. Of course, we brought you in.” 

“Oh… Well, thanks. I mean, I feel better now though. So, can we go?” I say not disguising how much I want to leave.

“But don’t you want to know why you had the fever?” Dean asks with a sadistic tone laced with mocking undertones.

‘Do I want to know why you’re asking in that tone?’ I quip internally.

“Fevers aren’t anything new, my body was probably just upset from sleeping outside.” I rush, “Seriously, can we go now? Hospitals creep me out. They are cesspools for spirits with misguided rage and are hell-bent on revenge. Not to mention the reapers that like to skulk around here as well.” I don’t understand why we’re still here or better yet, why they aren’t in a hurry to leave as well. Nothing good ever happens to us in hospitals. 

“You can’t” Sam says in a regretful, sympathetic tone, emphasizing on the ‘you’. He takes a breath before continuing as if he’s trying to work up the nerve; “The doctors have you on a psych hold.”

“The fuck? How did I get 5150ed from a fever!?” I almost yell, completely thrown off guard at this revelation. I honestly have no idea why they would even consider putting me on any type of hold just from a simple fever.

“The doctors are holding you on suspicions of Bulimia and Anorexia Nervosa.” Sam says with a hint of heartbreak showing in his eyes.

“And you seriously believe them?” I ask, appalled that we’re even having this conversation. 

I look over to check if Dean feels the same way, but am only met with one of the iciest stares I have ever seen. I’ve seen him look that way at others many times over, but this is the first time I have ever been on the receiving end. Something is really wrong. 

I question Sam with my gaze in hopes of a little bit of background for a situation I clearly know nothing about. 

“Sierra, you’ve been gone for months, Crowley keeps referencing a habit of yours, you spent the last few hours hunched over a toilet seat vomiting air, and the doctors have charted you as being underweight and malnourished. Let’s face it; the odds aren’t exactly in your favor.” Sam points out.

“But I’m fine! You have to believe me!” I can’t believe my ears; they truly do think that I have an eating disorder. I mean, it is true that I’ll occasionally lose my dinner over my nightmares or I’ll simply forget to order food due to my vigorous hunting schedules and constantly being on the run, but to classify a few unintentional circumstances as an eating disorder is completely insane! 

“Oh sweetheart, we haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.” Dean says in his malicious tone with no emotion on his face.

Without warning, Dean reaches over and flips my blankets back and reveals my body clothed in a hospital gown. The first feeling I experience is bewilderment, I don’t quite know the intentions of his actions. However, when I curl up in a conditioned response to the cold air, it serves to hike up my gown, making the gauze on my leg peek out slightly. It’s only then that I realize why he did what he did. 

They know.

The instant I connect the dots, there is an abrupt disconnect between my mind and body. I feel like time has stopped and I’m floating around the room watching a horror scene take place. Nothing feels real, my body is totally deadened. ‘You don’t know anything for sure yet, it could still all be a coincidence. They haven’t said anything directly, so don’t say anything!’ I try to reason with myself. I still have a sliver of hope that they’re ignorant of my secret. 

Armed with false hope, my consciousness drifts back to my body and I remember to respond to the situation at hand. “I don’t know what sick fantasy you’re trying to play out, but I don’t want any part of it. Now give back my blankets!” Although I’m trying my best to sound irritated, I’m feeling a whole other range of emotions on the inside. 

Of all the fears I have felt in my life, this has got to be the worst. Standing in the middle of a vampire’s den, at midnight, with one of my arms missing, and a severed jugular would be a more desirable fate than this. The phrase on repeat in the back of my mind is ‘They know, they know.’ It’s matched in rhythm to the beating of my heart, steadily getting faster and louder. 

I hear my heart rate monitor speed up in the background but I pray they assume it’s my anger because at this point, I’m not even sure blood is still pumping through my veins. It feels like straight adrenaline coursing through my body. It’s screaming ‘RUN!’ It’s filling my muscles with the energy necessary to sprint a marathon in record time. My body wants to run, but I’m paralyzed by the fear and the intense stares of Sam and Dean.

Dean doesn’t even respond to my smart-ass comment and goes straight for the kill. “Those slices on your thigh are how you ended up here. The doctors treated you for sepsis; the infection from those gashes spread to your blood. You want to tell us how you got those?” Dean asks with an accusatory tone.

Shit, shit, shit, not good. I need a convincing lie. I swallow hard, trying to alleviate the dry feeling of my mouth and throat, to no avail. 

“I got into it with a werewolf and was on the losing end. If Kuro wasn’t there, I don’t know what would have happened… We barely escaped in one piece. I should have kept a better eye on the scratches, I guess they were more serious than I originally though.” I lied through my teeth, praying it would be believable.

Dean slams his hand on the nearest tabled surface, making me jump out of my skin, “Don’t bullshit us Sierra! We’ve seen them, those aren’t werewolf marks, or any other monster injury for that matter. Now tell the fucking truth!”

Over by the foot of the bed, Sam looks away and slightly scowls at just the mention of my leg, like the image of my shredded thigh is burned onto his mind.

I don’t want this to be reality, I want this to be one big dream and when I wake up everything is back to normal. I want to return to the days where finding our next hunting destination was the big issue of the day. Where our topic of conversation revolved around where we’d get dinner and who gets the biggest bed.

But I’ve been forced into a corner and there is no getting out of this situation. They’ve already guessed my secret and there is no going back to normal after I remove all doubt. I open and close my mouth in attempts to spit it out but only succeed at looking like a fish. I take a breath, and go for it... “I… did it… to myself.”…In a voice not much louder than a whisper.

When I look up at their faces, I know they heard me loud and clear. Sam’s face reflects a questioning concern mixed with sorrow. The first time throughout this whole process, Dean’s face shows some expression. He looks livid at the fact that I would do that to myself, but he also looks guilty for some indiscernible reason. 

Just watching their reactions breaks my heart. I never meant to hurt them, as clichéd as that sounds. I was only doing what it took to keep myself sane and calm while not bogging them down with my petty issues. 

Eager to have our inevitable long heart-to-heart somewhere safer, I try to compromise. “Listen, I’ll tell you everything you want to know, everything! Just get me out of here!” I practically beg.

“No.” Dean says adamantly.

“What?”

“No. No cheating the system, no breaking the law this time. You’re going to stay here until your mandatory time is up and then we’ll talk. Maybe talking with the psychiatrists will help knock some sense to that brain of yours.” He mutters at the end.

All my sympathy and guilt for them quickly turns into anger. I was right. They did sell me out. The only difference being they didn’t sell me out to demons, they’re selling me out to psychologists. Dicks. 

I look away defiantly, not giving them the benefit of seeing how upset I am at the prospect of them leaving me here alone. Dean yanks open the door and leaves without a word. Sam pauses as if to say something, only to leave after patting my bed. 

Then I’m left, alone, with only my thoughts and no methods of relief. Lovely.


	14. Chapter 14

Day two of my confinement and I’m already pining to be released. Wait, did I say ‘pining’? I meant to say ‘planning’, I’m just waiting for the cover of night to help smooth over my escape plan.

During my stay I couldn't help but fixate on the fact that Sam and Dean truly did ditch me here. There is a voice in my head trying to talk sense to me, convincing me that I deserved to be put here and they were only doing it to help me. However a bigger part of me was hurt that they really did abandon me without batting an eyelash. With all their big talk about family sticking together, they sure were quick to drop me off at the first sign of trouble. 

I was going to start over-thinking about the correlation between my abandonment and their infamous ‘Family always sticks together’ motto but a sharp, rapid knock at my door jars me out of my internal grumbling. The female nurse, who is far too friendly for my taste, places a tray of food on the mobile table hovering above my bed. She sits down cattycorner across from me and starts chattering away about her day, dishing about her “hot gossip”, the love lives of her fellow nurses, and the resident “hottie” doctors. In the beginning, she was fundamental in my plan to get information on schedules; however with my plan already formulated she has just become very loud background noise. I focus on eating my dinner as fast as possible so I don’t have to continue hearing about the latest ‘scandalous’ rumors circulating around the hospital.

When I finish she finally stops talking and clears up my tray. Just before she leaves, she lightly grabs my arm, squeezes it, and says, "Sierra, I know it must be hard for you, but you're doing such a good job. You are kicking this illness’ butt. Keep at it, I'm so proud of you."

 

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. On one hand I wanted to roll my eyes at the idiotic notion of me having an eating disorder. On the other, I wanted to tear up at the sincerity of her statement, although she talks a lot and gossips far too much for her own good, she is also has a kind heart. I settle for a grateful smile. 

When I hear my door latch close at the nurses’ exit, I glance up at the time, surprised to see that it’s already time to break out of the joint. I leap out of bed, careful not to jar my bandaged thigh, and gather some strategically stashed items. A few bobby pins to pick locks, a belt for some non-lethal personal protection, salt packets for supernatural protection, and some cash I pick-pocketed from one of orderlies. In my defense though, who carries around their wallet while working on the psych ward at a hospital? They were practically asking to be ripped off.

I pad over to my door and listen for the tell-tale signs of the ward being shut down for the night. A large group of nurses all walk together shutting off lights on their way to the changing rooms by the nurse’s station. After they pass my room, I’m picking the lock on my door, stopping every now and again to listen for people. I only have around 10 minutes to get what I need and get out before the night staff starts their rounds and realizes I’m gone. 

With the last tumbler pressed, I twist my makeshift lock picks and hear a beautiful click indicating that I’m finally free. I peak around the hallway to ensure I’m alone and creep down towards the storage area for my personal belongings. I need my clothes back so it isn’t blatantly obvious that I’ve just broken out of an asylum. 

Getting into the room was far easier than I anticipated, but their organizational system desperately needs work. I had to dig through some seriously questionable bags to find my clothes. I sort through the bag once, twice, three times. There are legitimately only clothes in this bag. Undergarments, sweatpants, and a tank top are all that is contained within the bag. No weapons or shoes, the only additional things I’d need for a flawless escape. I suppose when you’re rushed to the hospital in the middle of the night, shoes and weapons aren’t high on the priority list. I audibly sigh. ‘Three out of five isn’t too bad, it is better than nothing.’ 

Three more minutes to go before rounds start, which means three more minutes to pick a locked emergency door and book it out of this place. That doesn’t sound too impossible. Armed with my weather inappropriate street clothes and my various ghetto weapons, I skulk over to the emergency exit and get to work. It’s frequently used as a ‘secret’ rendezvous location by paired staff, which is gross in and of itself, however its one of the only doors without an alarm so I won’t complain too much about the staff’s insatiable sex lives.

A strong gust of cold night air surrounds my body, a beautiful indication of my freedom. From the get-go I hightail it out of there, even at the expense of my poor feet. I need to get some major distance as soon as possible; I’d rather be miles away before the police are called. I’m pretty sure being shoeless with a tank top in the middle of a cold night is the equivalent of having a neon sign over my head that says “I’m a runaway”. 

I sprint for a ways, until I find a little park area to rest in, a safe distance away from the hospital and the main road. I rest on the bench to gather my thoughts and to cool my aching body. I stretch out my legs in front of me to relax the tension coiled in my muscles and to give my throbbing feet a temporary reprieve. ‘Maybe sprinting directly after going through Sepsis treatments on a mangled thigh wasn’t the brightest idea.’ The pain, however, did appease the need in me which was screaming for pain. 

Going days without any release just made the chaos in my head louder. The urge to harm grew stronger as my thoughts were dominated with self loathing, pain, and anger. It feels like a niggling itch that begins in my core and radiates outwards to my fingertips with a voice steadily growing stronger chanting “Cut, cut, cut!” A break from my corrupted mind was much needed relief.

In the distance I hear the ominous sound of something walking towards my direction through bushes. ‘Well, that’s just lovely. Of course I can’t rest for five minutes without being ambushed.’ I sit up, wrap the belt around my hand, and prepare for the ass whopping of the century. Even when I’m at 100% I’m barely above average in hand-to-hand combat. Factor in the fatigue, soreness, lack of weapons, and back up, and we have ourselves a losing battle. 

A muzzle sticks out from the bushes, and my terror turns into elation. “Kuro!! C’mere boy!” I reach out my arms and he comes charging at me. I squeeze his neck, so incredibly thankful that I don’t have to fight. “How’d you find me boy? Oh, right, half hell hound. That’s some nose you’ve got there!” I speak to him while scratching his ears.

A moment later, there is a louder rustling in the same direction. “Where did that stupid mutt go?” I hear a voice mumble. 

No. 

No, no, no. 

What are the chances? What are the fucking chances…?

Dean’s head emerges from the shrubbery.

My eyes dart left and right to find a hiding spot, but I’m dismayed to find that we are sitting in a fairly open and well-lit area. So I give up, sit back, and raise my hands up in a submitting position. ‘Yup, this is my luck.’ I think bitterly to myself.

 

When Dean sees the two of us his facial expressions shift from shock to confusion to realization to anger.

“So let me just preface this with, I wasn’t thinking straight when I formulated this plan. I didn’t quite think the ending through all the way.” I say looking at my wounded feet, trying to diffuse the tension.

Wordlessly, he storms off in the direction he came; I take it as a signal for me to follow. I try my best to keep up with him, but the rough terrain is cutting into my already damaged feet. Dean suddenly stops, almost causing me to slam into his back, and turns around to face me. He places one arm on my back the other behind my knees and swoops me up into his chest in one motion before continuing on. I suppose even when he’s mad he still maintains his chivalrous attitude. 

We trek wordlessly out of the trees and onto a normal sidewalk for what feels like hours. The only sounds that break up the silence are that of Kuro’s nails scraping the sidewalk and Dean’s boots hitting the concrete. I subtly glance up at Dean’s face to gauge his mood, but am disheartened to see a mask of poorly concealed rage. ‘It’s going to be a long night…’ I think to myself trying to mentally prepare for the upcoming ass whooping I’m about to receive.

We enter into the motel room and Dean, not too kindly, drops me onto one of the mattresses and proceeds to get himself a beer before sitting at the table. “No, I don’t want one. Thanks for asking though.” I mumble more to myself. Dean apparently hears and gives me a look of pure evil. I take the not-so-subtle hint and shut up. He begins working on the laptop at the dining nook while sipping on his beer, in total silence. 

About half a beer goes by before I hear the Impala pull up front. Not a moment too soon too; if I had to sit through any more awkward silence I think I would have tried to escape BACK to the hospital.

Sam rushes into the motel room. “Dean, we’ve got a problem! It’s Sierra, shes-”

“Sitting on the bed.” Dean interrupts motioning over to me with his bottle. “I found her mid-escape. Again.” 

I give Sam a small, stiff wave when we make eye contact. His face also shows a range of emotion before settling on irritation. “What were you thinking, Sierra? Do you know how dangerous that was? Who knows what could have snatched you!”

“You act like I’m just a normal citizen. You DO realize that killing things that lurk in the dark is literally my job, right?” I say with irritation edging at my voice.

Dean finally chimes in and lets his opinion be heard “Screw that, I’d like to know why you keep run away from us!”

My mouth almost drops at his accusation. “I wouldn’t have had to run if you guys didn’t drop me off at a hospital! Let’s talk about how quick you guys were to drop me off. Funny how your overused phrase of “Family always sticks together” went out the window real quick once you saw my scars. You trying to tell me something?” I try to finish with a strong voice but it almost comes out as a whispered sob.

“We ARE family, but damnit Sierra, you were hurting and we couldn’t do anything to help you! What were we supposed to do!?” Dean yells out, his frustration apparent in his voice. 

The question hung in the air for a while accompanied with a brief silence until understanding clicked in my mind. I never quite thought of their side of the story. I never thought of what I did want to happen, I only thought of what I didn’t want. I never gave them the chance to help; I was too consumed with my fear of being the useless one. In hiding what I was going through, both recently and the years leading up to it, I was only burdening them with worry. Before my mind could start berating myself, Sam breaks the silence in a calm tone.

“We’re both here, we’re both listening, it’s time for you to talk and tell us everything. No more secrets.” Sam gently pushes.

I give them a slight nod. It’s time to air out all of my skeletons and to let them see the light of day no matter the consequences. I’m ready.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger Warning, this whole story is a trigger warning...*
> 
> IT'S HERE! IT'S FINALLY HERE! The long awaited 15th chapter is here! 
> 
> I got stuck for a long time on this chapter, then I forgot about it, then I remembered again, then I started working on my Avengers fic (Which I'll be posting soon enough *Squeals*), but then I re-remembered about this story! 
> 
> May have taken forever to update but hey, hope you enjoy!

I open and close my mouth for the fifth time. Apparently there is a difference between being mentally ready and physically ready. I stare at my fingers, wringing them and intertwining them like a nervous boy about to ask out a girl for the first time. Except, I’m about to reveal my deepest darkest secrets to the two people I never wanted to know. Right.

I can see they’re both calmly waiting on me, but they’re starting to get impatient. 

I take a long steadying breath and release it slowly… Nope, still not ready. 

I take another long breath. ‘Maybe if I hold it in long enough I’ll pass out and not have to go through this conversation…’ I muse.

“Sierra, if you don’t start talking, so help me God—” Dean starts to say but is interrupted by a firm elbow to the side courtesy of Sam.

I inhale for the last time, hold it, in a sad attempt to calm my heart, then let it go along with all my fears and apprehensions. 

“So,” I begin, “When Crowley took me, it really messed me up.” I mentally praise myself for getting at least one sentence out. 

Both Sam and Dean look surprised that I actually said anything; maybe we’ve been sitting here longer than I initially thought. 

“I never told you guys the full story of what happened, I never wanted to relive the moment.” Another clearing breath and I decided to let it all come out. Do or die. “When he took me, he had this vicious cycle of ‘cut and clean’ as I called it. He would work me over with a knife, then brought in his people to clean up the wounds with antiseptic, only to return and repeat the process. Even when I slept, I was being tortured. I dreamt that I was being saved, but when I woke I realized I was still stuck in my hopeless situation. Each second dragged on; eventually I just wanted it all to be over. I started praying that they’d knick an artery; I hoped for death.” I clear my throat to harness my emotions. I’d rather get through all of this without sounding like a blubbering mess.

“When I was finally rescued, I thought that I would be able to put it all in the past and move on with life. Then the nightmares started to come. I didn’t sleep for more than a few hours a night if I were lucky. Then, then I had a thought, I thought that if I were stronger I’d be able to face my fears and have my semi-normal life back. So… I ran. But the months went by; I realized that it wasn’t helping. I was still having nightmares, I still would get hurt in hunts, and most of all I still had no right to call myself a Winchester.” I sniff to keep my composure and the tears at bay. I don’t want to look at their faces, I didn’t want to see the pain there; the pain that I caused.

“When did you start cutting up your leg?” Sam asks in a concerned tone.

I internally cringe, I hate that word. Hearing the word ‘Cutting’ or any variation of the word just sounds like an unholy sin coming from the lips. 

Still unable to look up, I continue to speak down to the ground, “I can’t remember when I started. But anytime a hunt went wrong, anytime I made a mistake, anytime someone died, I had to do it to make amends for what I’d done. If I didn’t, the feeling… It was almost like a cancerous feeling growing in my gut; gnawing away until there was nothing left of me. It would scream at me until the only thing I could hear was its voice egging me on; until I would finally cave in. It's... It's an addiction.”

The sound of Dean shoving his chair back snapped my head up straight to the rage in his eyes. “How long were you dealing with this?” Dean starts to ask in an eerily calm voice. 

“HOW LONG!?” He yells, demanding an answer when I hesitate.

“Years.” I say in little more than a whisper.

“You've been dealing with something like this for YEARS and not once did you think to tell any of us!?” Dean yells his anger and frustration running rampant. 

With that statement, the last of my self-control crumbled. Tears began falling out of my eyes with no end in sight. “I’m sorry… I just… I didn’t want to bother you with my problems. There was never a good time and I was so tired of being a burden.”

“Sierra,” Sam began in a much softer tone “don’t ever feel like you’re a burden. That’s what we’re here for. You’re supposed to lean on us when things get too tough, we don’t want to see you suffer alone.”

Dean shoves a hand through his hair to reign in his anger. “Listen,” he starts off in a calmer tone, “that’s what family is for. We’re here to support you when shit is too hard to deal with by yourself, that’s our job. Hiding your problems and hoping they’ll go away doesn’t help, believe me, I’ve tried. Promise me, no more secrets.”

I nod my head, “Okay, no more secrets.”

I wipe away the tears from my eyes and graciously accept the tissue Sam hands me. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of suffocating in your own snot. “So, on the account of no more secrets,” I start to say but am met with apprehensive stares, “Calm down, I just think I ripped a few stitches out while making my escape.” I finish, looking down at my sweatpants with a growing blood stain.

Falling back onto a well rehearsed pattern, Sam goes to fetch the first aid kit while Dean helps roll up my pants leg to inspect the wound. I look at Dean nervously trying to judge how well he’s able to handle himself while looking at my handmade wounds.

“You know, if it makes you uncomfortable, I can do it myself. It not like it’s my first…” I start to say but think otherwise when I meet Dean’s warning stare.

“Just because you don’t like the truth, doesn’t make it any less true.” I mutter under my breath.

Dean just gives a long sigh and sits back on the floor. “I know, I know.” He says with another sigh, “I just need a moment to wrap my head around the fact. I mean, one moment you’re a scared little girl hiding from your own shadow and the next you’re mincing your skin for fun. Just give me a moment to adjust.”

The last phrase he said made me bristle, “Fun? You think this is FUN for me?!” I say while pointing to my scars. “For YEARS I’ve felt responsible for every life lost, any mistake made and THIS is how I dealt with it! What of that sounds like FUN to you!?” I say standing on my feet fueled by my indignation.

Before Dean is able to say anything in his defense, Sam cuts in to diffuse the situation, “Sierra, sit down. Dean, shut up.” He says while throwing the first aid kit to Dean and pushing down on my shoulders to make me sit. “It’s been a long day and we’re all tired. Leave this conversation to when we all can think clearly.”

A chorus of sighs passes around the room. Every now and again, Sam can be a good mediator to keep the peace within the family. I lie on my back on the bed getting lost in my own thoughts while Dean starts to re-stitch up my previously opened wounds. 

Although one of my worst fears has just taken place, I’m still alive and breathing. It’s almost as if a huge weight has been lifted off my chest. The sense of dread and worry has been taken away and no longer scratches behind my subconscious. While it is a huge relief, another sense of anxiety takes its place. What if we’ll never be normal again? What if they no longer look at me the same way again? Every time they look at me, are they going to be constantly assessing if I’ve slipped or if I’m about to break down? Has this information changed our relationships forever?

With a pat to my calf, Dean jars me out of my internal thoughts. “All done. Why don’t you get dressed for bed?”

“Thanks” I say, offering him a small smile to which he returns. 

Maybe, maybe everything will be alright after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't quite decided if this is an appropriate ending yet... If not, I'm thinking there'll only be one or two more chapters before the end though. On a happy note though, I'm working on another fic and am already several chapters in so I wont leave you hanging completely high and dry!
> 
> Ps.s. the link to my new fic, check it out if you get bored.
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/4758476/chapters/10879973


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger Warning*

I jerk awake for the fifth time tonight, still trying to catch my breath at the horrors still etched behind my eyelids. I glance over at the clock. What an ungodly hour. I slam my head back into my pillow, not caring if I wake Sam up or not, he was the one who got me into this mess; they both were. Forcing me to relive memories of my fucked up past was one thing, but throwing out all my medicines crossed the line. They were the only things keeping me semi-sane in my fucked up head. 

Sam turns in the bed and pries one of his eyes open, still very much half-asleep, “Still cant sleep?”

Staring at the ceiling, I respond in an irritated, sleep deprived tone, “I would have been asleep if you hadn’t thrown out my pills.”

Sam releases a big sigh, “I told you, that stuff isn’t good for you. You can’t live on artificial sleep; you just need real, unadulterated sleep.”

“You know what’s worse than artificial sleep? No sleep at all.” I say not disguising how irritated and tired I am.

“I’m sorry.” Sam says ending the argument before it begins.

Giving up with trying to place the blame, I lie in bed for a while longer trying to imagine how life was before I had nightmares. I wait until Sam falls back to sleep before I gently get up out of bed and prepare to go for a run. ‘Might as well try to make my morning a productive one.’

Motioning to Kuro to get up and follow, we sneak all the way to the door before Dean’s voice from the couch almost makes me jump out of my own skin. “Where are you off to?”

“Christ!” I curse in a harsh whisper grabbing onto the dining table to steady my racing heart. I look over at Dean with horror, “Don’t scare me like that man!”

Dean sits up and runs a hand through his bed head looking at me expectantly.

“I was just going to go out for an early morning run with Kuro.” I respond not thinking anything of it. Back when I was living alone, running was my preferred form of therapy for days like this. Sometimes a long run would help me drain out all the thoughts in my head; enough for an hour or two of dreamless sleep. 

“I’ll go with you.” Dean declares while getting up from his ‘bed’.

“Uhhh… Why?” I ask completely surprised. Never have I ever seen Dean choose to give up sleep for physical activity. 

Dean chooses to ignore me and proceeds to rifle through his things for the appropriate attire. ‘Okay then… Maybe he just really wants to go for a run…’ I think to myself.

‘You know that’s not it. He doesn’t trust you anymore.’ My inner cynic chimes in.

Shaking the thought from my brain, I start my morning run with Kuro… And Dean.

…….

For the most part, after ‘the big reveal’, our daily lives had gone back to normal… Except for one particular aspect. I had hoped that last week’s morning impromptu group run was a onetime fluke, but consistently throughout the week I noticed that I was never alone. Even when we were in the same room, I felt their stares burning holes in my body. It was starting to get on my last nerve. 

We haven’t spoken about my habits since that night but I can tell they’re over thinking the whole situation. I understand the feelings of nervousness that they may be experiencing regarding my coping mechanisms, but I also think I deserve some leeway. I’m not stupid. I’ve always have been and will continue to be careful. The only thing smothering me is going to accomplish is making me feel trapped and stressed.

At the moment, we are currently pit stopped on our way towards Bobby’s. Of all the road trips we’ve taken, this one ranks pretty high on the worst. The trip in and of itself isn’t bad but the combination of dread at seeing Bobby after so long and the unsettling feeling of always being watched by Sam and Dean has me feeling on edge. 

Thankfully for me and my sanity, I stumbled upon a hunt on our route to Bobby’s. I may or may not have been scouring the pages of every newspaper and every local news channel for even the slightest hint of a hunt since the beginning of this road trip; desperate for a distraction for my thoughts and to prolong the dreaded confrontation with Bobby. It was several hundred miles in that I was finally able to catch the scent of a job. In one of the larger cities, thefts had been taking place in the expensive areas of town, all by people who were thought to be respected members of society. Just after the theft, the bodies of these individuals would turn up with an inconsistent time of death verses the crime. This was enough of a lead for me to convince the boys that we should investigate. 

After a day of me stuck at the computer, we finally ruled that it was a shape shifter who’d kill the host, commit the theft, and then mosey on back to his/her own home with the goods. The exact location of his/her home is what I’m working on right now and it’s frustrating the crap out of me.

I thump my head against the keyboard with a long groan of frustration, “It’s like playing hide and go seek with an ant that can teleport. Except, this thing basically CAN teleport! For all I know it could be YOU!” I finish my rant, Dean barely lifting his head from his laptop. 

“Hang in there kid, we’ll find him.” Dean mutters between key strokes.

“When?? After he kills fifteen more people?!” I shout out, tired of not getting anywhere with my research.

Dean stops what he’s doing and gives his full attention towards me, “You alright?” 

Translation, ‘Do I have to be worry about you either running away or slicing up your flesh?’

I roll my eyes at him, “No, no I’m not okay! I’m tired, I’m hungry, I’m stressed, and if I have to stare at this monitor one more second, I’m going to throw it out the window!” I run my fingers through my hair and start rubbing my scalp in attempts to de-stress.

Dean walks over to the table and shuts my laptop screen. “Go take a shower. I’ll tell Sam to get dinner and when he gets back we’ll see if he has any new leads for us. Okay?” Dean rubs the top of my head affectionately with a hint of worry in his eyes. 

Its moments like these where I can forgive how much of a jerk Dean can be. 

Feeling the stress practically melt off, I get up and start preparing for my therapeutic shower. Just as I get under the spray, the voices start gnawing away at my temporary happiness. 

‘Before, Dean would have just gone out and gotten food.’

‘He doesn’t trust you.’

‘He thinks you’re stupid.’ 

‘Now instead of spending time trying to save people, Sam and Dean spend their time babysitting YOU.’

‘If anyone dies, it’s YOUR fault.’

The last statement completely crushes me. I could handle these thoughts if they were untrue or unreasonable. The fact that they’re all true weighs heavily on me. 

‘You know what’ll help alleviate that feeling, don’t you?’ My inner addict chimes in.

‘No,’ I think, ‘I’m not going to give in.’

‘Then why do you have the razor in your hand?’ My inner addict questions with a jeering voice.

I look at my hands. Unconsciously I’m picking at my conditioner bottle label. Fuck. The combined stress of me not getting anywhere with research, the boys’ anxiousness, and our slow progress towards Bobby’s has worn me down too much. The throbbing pressure in my head has traveled to my blood, seemingly screaming at me through every pulse for relief.

I peel back the label to reveal my blade; the shiny edge calling to me like an old friend, persuading me to make just one knick, just one stroke. Feeling my resolve drop all around me, I fall back into my old pattern of self-destruction. I run my fingers over my scars, remembering which sequence of events lead up to each individual scar. I take a deep breath, hold it in, and then drag the blade down my leg. Sweet, sweet, relief. One stroke’s not enough. Just one more. Only one more stroke. Exhale.

I can breathe now, the pressure leaving my body in a streak of red snaking down my leg. The euphoria circling my head replaces those nasty feelings of worthlessness and dread. An unnatural grin pulls at my lips as goose bumps travels up my arms and neck even under the warm spray. 

Coming back down to reality, I finish my shower and tend to my new wounds along with my mostly healed ones. I throw on one of Sam’s old shirts, one he ever so kindly donated, and a pair of baggy sweatpants before rejoining Dean in the main room. Before I even step out, I’m almost tripped by a worried looking Kuro sitting in front of the bathroom door. 

“What’s wrong buddy?” I ask completely confused as to what would have him on edge, “Did anything happen?” I ask Dean.

“Nope, he just got up and started whimpering at the door for who knows why.” Dean says just as confused as me.

The world around me stops in mid-motion as I recall a similar event happening when I was on my own. Kuro was part hell hound, he could easily smell when I was bleeding. I could feel my face lose its blood. I probably looked paler than a ghost, but I played it off. “Kuro, you silly pup!” I rubbed Kuro’s head and hopped up on the bed inviting him to join me. I laid down beside Kuro in a pathetic attempt to regain color in my face while trying to mimic nonchalant actions. 

‘It’s fine, Dean doesn’t know anything. It’ll be fine, I’ll be fine, we’re all fine.’ I chant in my head feeling like my face is covered in egg.

“I’m starving, when’s Sam going to get back?” I ask looking over to where Dean was sitting only to see an empty chair, “Dean?”

“How’s the leg?” Dean’s sudden appearance at the side of the bed startles me. 

‘Shit! He KNOWS! Fuck, SHIT! Okay, okay. Calm down, play it cool.’

“Uhh, fine… Thanks?” I respond focusing on Kuro’s hairs. 

“Yeah? Let me look at it.” Deans deadpans while tugging at my pants leg.

“What? No.” I look up to him just to be met with a pair of eyes with unbridled rage. He continues to roll up my pants leg with no notice of my protests or my struggling.

“Seriously Dean, Stop! STOP IT!” I nearly shriek as he is getting closer to revealing my relapse.

Just as this scene is starting to unfold, Sam walks into the door holding bags of food. It takes him just a moment before springing into action. Sam shoves the bags onto the table by the door and rushes Dean pulling him off by his collar. “THE FUCK DEAN!?” Sam yells at him placing himself between me and him.

“Check her leg.” Dean commands.

Fast enough to give me whiplash, Sam swings from my side to Dean’s side and yanks my pants leg the rest of the way up to reveal my bandaged thigh. ‘Yup, I’m screwed.’ All the wrestling has opened up the scabs that had formed on my cuts and was now bleeding straight through the gauze for all to see.

“Damn it Sierra!!” Sam yells exasperated.

“Where is it!?” Dean barks out, demanding an answer. 

Throughout the trip Dean had been careful to keep all sharp objects away from me and safely tucked within the duffel bag in the trunk so I knew exactly what he was asking, ‘Where is your secret blade?’

Not ready to give up my only source of relief, I fix my gaze to the floor in a subtle protest. This seems to set him off more and he storms into the bathroom on a mission; one I prayed desperately he would lose.

Amid the crashing sounds in the bathroom, Sam kneels in front of me with our first aid kit intending to fix the soiled gauze. Stealing a glance at his face, I knew instantly; I fucked up. Sam’s normal calm, mediator demeanor was gone. In its place was a seething rage threatening to bubble over at one false move. This was one of the maddest I’ve ever seen Sam in my life.

I. Fucked. Up. 

I stayed silent and completely still the whole time, trying not to set him off in any way. I debate whether or not to say something… anything just to relieve some of the mass amounts of tension building within the room. I open my mouth but am stopped almost immediately.

“Don’t. Just, Don’t.” Sam growls out behind gritted teeth. 

‘Whelp, there goes that thought.’ I think to myself ruefully.

The door slams open and a furious Dean emerges from the mess that is the bathroom. The little gleam of my blade between his fingers makes my heart stop cold. ‘Fuck.’ If I didn’t look like a ghost before, I sure do now. 

“I am only going to ask this once. Is this the only blade you have?”

I nod slightly 

“Sierra.” Dean grits out, expecting a real answer.

“Yes. That’s the only one.” I whisper.

Moments of tense, uncomfortable silence passes between the three of us. Unknowingly Dean has started to pace the room back and forth while getting his thoughts together. Meanwhile, I’m just left sitting on the bed drowning in my own thoughts of dread.

‘They found it. They found my only source of relief. What do I do now?’ I think, feeling my anxiety rise.

Dean’s low menacing voice startles me, “Get in the car, we’re leaving.” 

‘Leaving?? Leaving to go where?? We’re right in the middle of a case! What is he thinking!?’

“But-“ I raise my voice to question his decision but am cut off instantaneously.

“In. Now. Don’t make me tell you again.” Dean commands with no room for negotiation. 

I look pleadingly to Sam, hoping for some back-up but am shocked instead. His face shows unchecked wrath bubbling just beneath the surface and his expression is clearly telling me that if I don’t comply there will be hell to pay. Understanding that I’m on the losing end of this battle, I march out to the car with Kuro at my heels. 

Sitting in the car while they pack up the room leaves me with plenty of time to brood. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at how fucked up this situation is. Not only are they completely overreacting at something so insignificant, they’re also abandoning a whole case just to deal with this! They’re acting like I’ve just sold my soul for a penny. I didn’t know what to expect, but this was going overboard. 

The last of the bags are thrown into the trunk and both Sam and Dean get into the car slamming the doors, not disguising how irritated they are. If I weren’t so afraid of their wrath, I’d roll my eyes. Just because they’re mad it doesn’t mean they have to abuse the car. Without another word, we set off to some unknown destination. Feeling frustrated with their overreactions and treating me like a child, I just sit back and zone out; no reason in getting all riled up for nothing. 

About an hour into the drive a sign catches my eye making me jerk up alert, “South Dakota: 900 miles”

I can feel my stomach drop to my toes.

No. Oh, God no!

They’re taking me to see Bobby!

“Stop the car!” I nearly scream out.

Without missing a beat Dean says with a monotonous tone, “No chance in hell, cupcake.”

“You can’t do this to me!” I plead with them feeling frantic at my impending fate.

“Do what? Take you to see Bobby?” Dean shoots back.

“That’s not what you’re going to do! You’re going to tell him everything!”

“Damn straight. We don’t keep secrets in this family.” Dean says while giving me a pointed look in the rear view mirror.

“Oh that’s rich coming from you! What about—“I tried to point out the hypocrisy in his statement but Dean turned the music up loud enough to drown my voice.

I slam my head back into the head rest, ‘Fuck. I’m so screwed.’


	17. Relief

Nestled in between both Sam and Dean on the rock-like motel mattress, I can feel my anxiety start to pique, once again threatening to overtake my body. ‘We drove for 12 hours which means we’ve completed 3/4ths of the 17 hour drive. Sam gets up at 6am, meaning I only have 3 more hours until we leave, which leaves only 5 more hours until I’m face-to-face with Bobby. Fuuuck! I need more time, I just need a few more hours to prepare myself. He’s going to kill me as it is for leaving in the first place, but once Sam and Dean tell him about, well, everything I’ll be beyond screwed! Fuuuucccckkkkkk!’ I can’t figure out if I want to scream, cry, or curse them out. Let’s be honest though, a mixture of the three would probably fit this situation best.

‘What if he disowns you? That’s basically what you did to him when you ran away. It’s only natural that he’d do the same. He’s going to kick you out, Sam and Dean are going to leave you, and then you’ll be all alone. Again.’ The negative thoughts keep swirling around in my mind, reminding me that reality is a terrible, frightening place.

The nervous energy thrumming throughout my body is making me want to jump out of bed and run until I collapse but the giants on either side of me are preventing me from moving an inch. Apparently they’re not leaving any opportunities for me to slip up-a second time. 

‘Sierra, the forever fuck-up,’ My inner voice spits with a sneer, ‘they don’t even trust you enough to sleep alone. Pathetic.’

With none of my usual outlet to release the pent up emotions, they force themselves out by slowly leaking out of my tear ducts. Gritting my teeth, I keep my sobs at bay settling for a bout of silent crying. One of my two body guards stirs and I take that opportunity to disguise the movement of draping an arm on my face; I’m being treated like a baby might as well avoid removing all doubt. 

Several more moments of self-loathing pass and the tears show no signs of stopping. A wayward sniffle escapes from me unfortunately awaking Sam. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Sam asks sitting up and turning on the bedside lamp.

I groan at the intrusive lights and bring my other arm up to both help shield the light from my overly sensitive eyes and to hide the tears cascading down my face like a waterfall. “Fine. Go back to sleep.” I grit out, surprised myself at how even my voice is.

Dean gripes at the rude awakening, “Sam, turn off the light.”

“Sierra,” Ignoring Dean, Sam asks with an edge of concern, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Let me sleep.” I start out strong but the last word is whispered behind a not-so-muffled sob. 

This, of course, gets Dean’s attention causing him to sit up on full alert as well. 

“Sierra.” Dean growled with an authoritative tone. Though it was only one word, the multitude of meanings it held was crystal clear. It meant, ‘Take your hands off of your face, sit up, and answer the question.’ 

Furiously wiping the tears from my face, I sit up and snap at them, “What?”

“Why are you crying?” Dean starts to say in a harsh tone but eases up slightly at the sight of my red, puffy eyes.

“Why…?” I ask almost shocked at their ignorance, “Where do I start!? I haven’t had a good night’s rest in months, my meds to cope with said issue were taken away, we abandoned a case because of an overreaction, I’m constantly being watched like a convict, I have no methods to relax, and now I only have hours until I have to face Bobby’s abandonment! Choose your pick, there are plenty!”

“Overreaction!?” Dean nearly shouts while Sam asks, “Abandonment?”

Out of my rant, both brothers pick a different key word to further question me about. I start with Deans question to quell his anger… or to further it, whichever one comes first.

“Yes an overreaction! I was dealing, I wasn’t dying. The people we abandoned, however, are! If this were any other situation we would have finished the case then dealt with whatever!”

Dean stops and looks at me as if I’d grown another head, “We’re not talking about a ‘oops, I slipped and scraped my knee’ type of situation, we’re talking about your persistent need to slice up your flesh! Which, by the way, has landed you in the hospital already for a BLOOD INFECTION! I’m sorry if I want to deal with this situation as soon as possible!”

“And your solution is to drag me to Bobby’s?? How’s that going to help!?”

“What makes you think it won’t?” Sam cuts into the conversation with a calming tone, “Why do you think he’ll just up and walk out on you?”

A few moments of silence pass as I gather all my fears and bundle them in a neat little sentence. “Why wouldn’t he? All I’ve done since I’ve been in his care is mess things up and cause him trouble. He doesn’t owe me anything. I think he’s already figured out I’m too much to handle.”

Without warning, Dean starts to chuckle. I look up at them slightly horrified and very confused, ‘Did… Did I say something that was funny…?’

“Sierra, Bobby has known you’re too much to handle for years. He tells all three of us at least once every visit how much of a pain in the ass we are! What makes you think he’ll walk out now??”

Barely suppressing his eye roll, Sam starts, “The point is, We’ll get through this together. It’s time to stop running and face the fireworks. Everything is going to be alright.” Sam finishes with a smile and a warm caress on my back.

For once in a very long time, I finally feel some of the pressure gnawing at me leave. My vision begins to blur as a fresh wave of tears trail down the familiar paths on my cheeks. Months of fear and anxiousness leak out of my body through violent sobs. Both boys, and even the dog, look beside themselves in shock and concern at the scene in front of them. 

Before they have time to react, Sam gets a phone call. He immediately leaves the bed and walks to the door. My tears are shocked into submission when an irate looking Bobby appears at the front door.

‘Fuck me senseless.’ I say in shock, unable to comprehend how this could have happened. This wasn’t part of the plan, I still had several hours! It feels like my entire body has just stopped working, my heart has stopped beating, my lungs have stopped pulling in air, my legs won’t move, and I’m just… frozen.

Bobby’s face suddenly bursts through my haze with a look of stern determination. Zeroing in on my location on the bed, I’m engulfed in a bone crushing hug. ‘Well… This isn’t what I was expecting…’

…THEN the yelling started, “Girl, if you EVER do that to me again, I swear I’ll beat you within an inch of your life before you even leave the house! What the HELL were you thinking!?”

“That’s not even the whole of it…” Dean mutters oh-so-subtly under his breath, which results in a cursing glance from me.

Bobby’s gaze is ripped from me and sharply lands on Dean. For a second, I see a primitive fear in Dean that only Bobby can elicit. ‘Fuuuuuccccckkkkkk mmmmeeeee’ I think to myself, ‘I’m going to die. He’s going to kill me. If Bobby’s mad enough to scare Dean, I’m completely and utterly screwed. Fuck!!’ 

As Sam and Dean are briefing Bobby on the shit-storm that is my life, I begin to calculate an escape plan in my terror. ‘I just need to get up and run. Once I get around them if I sprint I can make it to the door and dart away into the nearby forest. Kuro will be able to block the door with his body and run with me before they can snatch me again!’ My mind set, I ease up from the bed and start to sneak behind them, only to be met by three irate faces. Survival instincts kicking in, I immediately lose all sensation in my feet and plop back down on the bed, pinned by their gazes. 

‘Great plan.’ I sigh aloud, feeling utterly hopeless.

“You got yourself into this mess, time to pay the piper.” Dean responds to my attitude.

Something in that statement irks me enough to explode, “You know what, Fuck you! I’m fucking sick of this ‘Holier than thou’ attitude from you!”

“Okay Enough! Both of you!” Bobby yells in his booming voice.

Kuro starts to growl feeling that this argument has gone far enough. Without missing a beat, Bobby glares at him and commands with his unconcealed fury, “Go lay down.” Kuro whips his head away and lays at my feet, being effectively restrained with one sentence.

“Holy shit. That’s a first.” I mutter only to receive a glare from Bobby ordering me shut my mouth, to which I rapidly comply.

Bobby takes a deep breath during the silence to calm himself down slightly and sits on the chair in front of the bed. “I ought to sling you over my lap and beat you.” Bobby says in a more controlled tone, “What made you think that cutting up your leg would solve anything?”

I shrug my shoulders but am spurred on by the silence to give some sort of explanation, “I just needed to do something to ease the feelings smothering me, I suppose.”

“And you didn’t think I’d be a good idea to tell one of us?”

Feeling slightly defensive, “Its not like it didn’t cross my mind! I just… You all always had bigger things to deal with, I didn’t want to add to the drama that is constantly surrounding us.”

“You will always be more important to us than anything else. Your problems will always trump any drama of the week. Don’t you ever be afraid to tell us how you’re feeling. We’re family, rain or shine, problems and all. Don’t ever let anyone tell you different.” Bobby finishes in a warm, reassuring tone.

Slowly the world becomes all fuzzy and waterlogged and without hesitation I’m drawn up into Bobby’s arms. All my pent up frustration and fear is finally being completely released and I’m engulfed in a feeling of utter relief. It’s only then, that I finally know deep within my soul:

Everything is going to be alright.

-End-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, looks like we've finally reached the end! Thanks for sticking with this story, I hope you enjoyed reading it (when I'd actually update....) as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> And now, off to continue writing my Avengers fic!


	18. Oneshot: The Japanese Flag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A oneshot story that has nothing to do with the previous chapters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a oneshot to this series. It doesn't have anything to do with the previous story, I just thought it would be a fun/funny story to add as an extra.

A deep rumbling sound reverberates through my chest and pulls me into consciousness. It takes a second before a large, cuddly body registers in my mind as being splayed over my chest and along the bed beside me. “Kuro, go back to sleep.” I mutter hoarsely trying to fall back asleep before my body fully awakens.

Another deep growl slowly vibrates through the air accompanied by the thumping of boots progressively getting louder on the steps. I roll my eyes beneath my eyelids. Leave it to the Winchester boys to know how to sneak up on a nest of vampires yet not know how to walk properly on steps to avoid waking the dead.

I peek one eye open and pray that their business doesn’t require me leaving my warm cocoon. Both Sam and Dean are in my room a moment later looking far too dressed and prepared for my liking.

“What are you still doing in bed? It’s like noon already.” Sam asks, slightly dumbfounded at my out of character move. Apparently, sleeping in has become an alien concept to him.

Dean walks over to the side of the bed and jostles my leg, “C’mon, get up and dressed, we have a hunt.”

Making eye contact with Dean, I drag the blanket over my head and snuggle back into the warmth of dog/hell hound fur blatantly ignoring his presence and more importantly, his demand. It only takes a moment, but I drift back into obscurity reveling in the comfort of my mattress. A swift movement devoids me of both my warmth and comfort and I’m swooped into the arms of Dean.

My eyes snap open and lock onto the offending Winchester, “Let me go, you douche! I don’t want to go. Let me sleep!” I growl out.

“Geez, what crawled up your ass and died? Well, whatever, hurry and get ready, I’d like to get there before tomorrow morning.” Dean says while depositing me by my closet.

I glare at them cursing their existence with my eyes until they leave the room. A few slow blinks later and I realize I’m standing in the middle of my room, zoned out, and wistfully staring at my warm bed. The crisp air around me reminds me that I’m still only in my oversized night shirt and that clothing would be a good idea. I mentally shake off the cobwebs surrounding my brain and throw on the first things my hands come into contact with.

Like a zombie on a mission, I walk down the stairs avoiding all conversations and make my way to the back seat of the car to lie down. The cold leather is slightly off-putting but Kuro soon jumps in beside me sharing his body heat.

A trunk slam and two doors shutting signal the beginning of our hunt; but not my nap. Sam turns around in his seat to look at me, scrutinizing my previous actions. “Sierra, are you okay?”

“Mhmm.” I assure him while attempting to make as little human connection as possible.

“Are you sure? You didn’t eat anything and didn’t even say goodbye to Bobby.”

“I’ll eat when we stop and we shouldn’t be gone long enough to warrant a goodbye, right?”

“Yeah…” Sam says hesitantly looking as if he wants to argue the point.

With that confirmation, I turn over in the seat to face the back and drift away back into dreamland.

………….

Its five hours into the drive and I feel like death. My head feels like it’s about to split open, my stomach is simultaneously queasy and cramping, and I still feel groggy. I have my head propped up against the window of the car not trusting myself to be lying down with the state my stomach is in.

We soon stop by a tiny diner a few minutes from the town we need to be in. The waitress sets us into a booth tucked away in the corner and writes down our orders, only after, of course, she eyes both brothers up and down. Gross.

“I feel violated just by watching that… She could have at least TRY to hide the fact she was fucking you both in her mind…” I mutter still shivering in disgust.

Both brothers stop and stare at me as if I had another head growing on my forehead.

Sam places a hand over my forehead looking concerned, “Seriously Sierra, are you okay??”

“You’ve been weird all day” Dean adds with a scowl on his face.

I let out a long sigh, “I told you both I didn’t want to come. I don’t feel great.”

Before anything else can be said, the waitress sets all of our food down at the table and leaves with a wink at Sam. Once again, gross.

Sam starts munching on his salad but it’s Dean’s meal that has my attention. He has ordered a giant steak with a side of baked potato and beans. A small whiff of his meal makes my stomach jerk enough that I have to make a valid effort to not projectile vomit across the table.

“Oh, God. I’m waiting in the car.” I say with a hand on my mouth.

Both brothers share a glance and hand over the keys. “We’ll get your soup in a to-go box then… “ Sam says looking a bit shell shocked.

As I walk away, their facial expressions register in my mind. They don’t deserve to be treated this way, they’ve done nothing wrong. Just because I’m feeling crappy doesn’t mean I can lash out. I walk the rest of the way to the car feeling an overwhelming sense of shame.

Just as my head hits the cushion of the car seat, I knock right out.

…………

Hot.

So. Hot.

When I open my eyes I’m greeted with darkness. It takes a few more blinks for my brain to process that I’m laying in a hotel bed with Kuro to one side of me and Dean on the other. I try to go back to sleep but my body feels like it’s being cooked alive under the blankets. I wiggle slightly just to feel a slight sheen of sweat all over my body. Glancing at my shirt, I notice that I’m still wearing my street clothes. ‘No wonder I feel like I’m in hell… I’ve got two giants on either side of me and I have no PJs on. Jeez, even my pants are wet…’

With that thought, my stomach drops out of my body and the world stops for a moment. I know this feeling. “Fuck.”

Like a bat out of hell, I shoot up and run to the bathroom and slam the door. I look at the seat of my pants and groan aloud. ‘How the hell did I not realize it’s my time of the month?? Fuck me!! The cramping might as well had been a flashing neon warning. I have none of my supplies and I only brought one change of clothes. Once again, FUCK!’

Commotion begins to sound on the other side of the door, bringing me out of my internal problem solving mode. I hear footsteps approach the door and then the pounding starts. “Sierra! Are you okay? What’s going on??” I can hear the anxiety in Dean’s voice.

“I’m fine, go away.” I mutter loud enough for him to hear.

“What’s going on? Where are you hurt?? Let us in!” Dean pushes insistently.

I grit my teeth. ‘I suppose it’s better to get this over with behind the door verses in person…’

“Fine.” I inhale trying to muster up all the courage I can and blurt it all in one breath, “I need you both to run to Walmart and get some tampons.”

It takes a moment before I hear a faint, “Oh…” behind the door and the rooms both echo an awkward silence.

My face is burning in shame but finally I hear the front door open and close. ‘Kill. Me. Now.’

Growing up as a girl in the home of three men was interesting to say the least. During puberty any questions I had were promptly answered with a book being shoved in my face. When I first got my period, we made an impromptu midnight trip to the Road House JUST so they could be spared the embarrassment of talking about anything regarding the female body. Apart from the night I woke Bobby up crying about how I was dying; my monthly guest was one of my best kept secrets from all three of them. They didn’t want to know almost as much as I didn’t want them to know. Almost.

Groaning I push up from the toilet seat and take the fastest shower of my life. I have about 10 minutes to clean both myself and the other room before they return. I Macgyuver myself a tampon and wrap a towel around me before filling the sink with cold water. ‘Might as well try to salvage my clothes and the sheets.’

I got into the room only to let out a frightened squeal. Sitting on the chair, feigning nonchalance is Sam. All of a sudden the ground becomes incredibly fascinating. I scuttle over to my bag and get some PJs out. Something balled up in the corner of the room catches my eye. To my horror, I realize it’s the soiled sheets from the bed. I snatch it and lock myself back in my safe haven.

Feeling more clean and refreshed, I exit the bathroom with hesitance; not wanting to make any more memories from this horrid night.

This time, I’m greeted by a sheepish Sam, “Hey… Uh, how you feeling?”

“Fine.” I mutter at the floor.

Kuro looks up from his spot on the sheet-less bed and lies back down, completely undisturbed at the whole situation. Lucky bastard.

I sit across from Sam at the breakfast nook feeling the weight of the silence spanning on. A cramp rips through my stomach making me grip my middle and rest my head on the table. What did I do to deserve the cramps from hell?? Sam rushes up from his seat behind me trying to think of something, anything, to help. Without warning, I’m lifted into his lap and he starts rubbing my back. I melt into his arms at the soothing feeling.

Feeling completely relaxed, I don’t even flinch when Dean bursts through the door with grocery bags. Dean looks over to us with a raised eyebrow but his expression morphs into alarm when I unintentionally curl into Sam when another spasm gnaws at my belly. Sam’s warm hand continues to rub at my back in circles.

“The store clerk said that this would help…” Dean holds up a box of Midol in my face, “I also got you M&Ms…” With that, he hands me the bag so I can fish through the items I’ll need.

I give him a quick smile and rush to the bathroom to get drugged up and cleaned up. When I return there’s still an awkward silence in the room with both brothers sitting at the breakfast table.

 “Feeling better?” Sam asks with a slight smile.

I nod feeling blood rush to my cheeks again. Oh what I would give to forget this night even happened.

“Want some chocolate?” Dean asks holding up the bag of chocolate.

I nod again, this time looking more enthusiastic.

Slowly but surely, the awkwardness dissipates as we talk about the hunt in the morning.

…

Morning comes and we’re packing up to move out of the motel room. Just before we get into the car I stop them. I look at them both in the eyes with an unnatural seriousness, “Last night never happened.” I say with a grave tone.

Both Sam and Dean quickly agree.

“Yup.” Says Sam with no hesitation.

“No question about it.” Dean shakes his head, visibly paleing at the thought of the incident getting out.

End


End file.
